


Not Quite an Icha Icha Love Story

by lunarella



Category: Naruto
Genre: (probably), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Dancer Iruka, Detective/Officer Kakashi, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, both these dumb idiots could probably benefit from some therapy, this is going to be way less sexual than you'd expect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-01-11 08:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18427020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarella/pseuds/lunarella
Summary: If you told Iruka a few months ago that, in addition to finally having a paid internship as a teacher’s assistant, he’d also be doubling as a stripper at a gay club—well, he’d probably laugh hysterically, then go silent for a contemplative moment as he considered his income before subsequently shrugging and admitting thatyeah, that sounds entirely possible.- - -Iruka's night life and day life were never supposed to meet. Of course, Hatake Kakashi managed to amble into both.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You binge watch Naruto one (one!!) time, see one (one!!) cute fanart and suddenly you're neck deep in kakairu hell. Idk, I mean you tell me.

If you told Iruka a few months ago that, in addition to finally having a paid internship as a teacher’s assistant, he’d also be doubling as a stripper at a gay club—well, he’d probably laugh hysterically, then go silent for a contemplative moment as he considered his income before subsequently shrugging and admitting that _yeah_ , _that sounds entirely possible._

Most of the time, Iruka really didn't mind dancing. The hours were at his leisure which, to a full time college student and part time teacher assistant, meant that Iruka actually had time to breathe between responsibilities. Sure, sometimes he could feel the late hours catching up to him in the following mornings and it could be annoying to realign his circadian rhythm, but things like that could easily be overlooked when he was quite literally being showered in loose cash that fluttered down to his feet.

Iruka made a show of slowly sliding down the poll against his back, one arm looped behind it over his head. His thighs settled on his heels and he swiped up the cash at his feet. As he did so, a man reached out to slip a wad of cash into his leg garter. Iruka smirked, ran a hand through his loose, tousled hair and winked in the direction of the figure, though he couldn't be too sure where exactly he was looking. With the lights beaming down on him, it was hard to make out the individual faces below him, who all looked to be nothing more than a mass of lively silhouettes.

Iruka stood and made his way backstage to the dressing rooms, beginning to feel the consequence of wearing a pair of black heeled boots that looked as incredible on him as they were painful; that is to say, extremely. He’d be damned if he wasn’t going to wear them until the soles gave out though. His entire getup was an expensive drunken mistake he made with his best friend and unbeknownst to their drunken selves, the online seller did not do refunds. Thankfully though, Iruka thought as he passed by a large mirror lined with warm luminescent lights, it looked good on him—or good enough so that he probably wouldn’t have returned it either way. One night dancing in it more than compensated the price, anyhow.

Said drunken splurge was none other than a skimpy police outfit, equipped with tiny black shorts, a fitting cropped button-up that nicely showed off the toned lines of his midsection, a complementary fake badge, leg garters, a police hat, and handcuffs to tie it all together. It was a stupid, drunk, impulsive buy that no doubt impressionable drunk Iruka was pressured into buying but…well he did look good in blue. With an hour and left to kill, Iruka still had time to show it off. He took one last look in the mirror before heading back out. His hair was a mess, loose and wavy from dancing. The slight flush on his cheeks emphasized his scar more than Iruka would have liked, but people tended to like it anyway. Though, they lacked knowledge of the unpleasant memories Iruka associated with it. Iruka didn't allow himself to linger on it though. He looked good, his messy hair only adding to his appearance.

Iruka took one last soothing, unshared breath before he set back out to the floor. He'd kill just one more hour and then leave in time to catch the bus home, albeit with a cozy amount of extra cash in his wallet.

“Ru!” a voice distantly called as soon as Iruka stepped out from the quiet sanctity of the backrooms and into the throng people, all moving and dancing in the club's dim lighting. Across the room, he could make out Anko waving him over from behind the bar, grinning widely. Iruka rolled his eyes at the stage name she’d given him, but made his way over nonetheless, weaving through the crowd until he was leaning with his elbows propped on the countertop.

“That was such a good investment,” she cooed excitedly and fingered Iruka's collar. “You’re welcome.” She smirked. Iruka rolled his eyes.

“If you’re so enthusiastic about skimpy costume investments, why don’t you try dancing instead of projecting onto me? These are expensive,” Iruka said and accepted a tray of shots Anko slid over to him. She quirked an unimpressed brow at him.

“And upstage all of you? I could never,” she said with martyrdom and waved a dismissive hand. “Now go sell those—but be careful because Haruna said she lost a few to a pair of sneaky hands.” She reached over and pushed down Iruka’s hat. Iruka swatted her away. “Have fun, officer,” she winked, to which Iruka politely and discreetly flipped her off.

Despite his half-hearted annoyance, Iruka smiled as he walked away. It was actually thanks to Anko that Iruka even danced there in the first place. Iruka had been sitting at the bar during one of Anko's shifts, groaning about being broke and wasting his money on alcohol when Anko suggested he try dancing. Iruka looked at her blandly at the time, unimpressed and then realized Anko was serious. So, she gave him an in and he danced. When he went home that night with a slightly heavier wallet and significantly lighter shoulders, he decided he really didn't mind dancing and next he knew, he was integrating it into his weekly routine.  

The shots were going quick enough. A few people approached him simply to tuck some cash into his leg garters, but so far nobody had asked for a lap dance which was quite honestly fine by him.  Typically, this was the part of the night where Iruka wound himself down, the adrenaline from dancing slowly leaving his body, replaced by the exhaustion seeping into his bones. He was ready to put the tray up and leave when a man approached him, wobbling on unsteady feet as he pushed a bill into Iruka’s palms, one far too big for the remaining three shots of vodka.

Iruka drew his brows together in alarm, hesitantly accepting the bill. The man pushing it into his hands was a brunette with large, dark eyes and cheeks an intoxicated pink. “I’ll take the shots and you can keep the rest of the money if you give my friend a lap dance,” the man said, words slurring. “It’s his birthday,” he helpfully added in what Iruka imagined was meant to be a whisper, gesturing behind himself with a thumb.

Iruka peered over the man’s shoulder and saw another man situated at one of the booths. He was hunched over with his gaze focused on the phone in his hand, the luminescent screen lighting up his face in the overall dim atmosphere. Truthfully, he looked like the last guy in this place who wanted a lap dance, his attention clearly more interested in his phone rather than the environment around him. Iruka couldn’t begin to fathom why exactly that intrigued him so much but he was sure any respectable therapist would narrow it down to the lack of attention he received as an adolescent.

Iruka smirked and decisively handed the platter to the drunk man, tucking the bill into his leg garter. He was itching to make use of his handcuffs anyway.

The man was so engrossed in his phone, it wasn’t until Iruka was standing right in front of him that he even seemed to notice Iruka’s presence, his head perking up as Iruka’s boots appeared in the background of his vision. Blinking, the man trailed his gaze up Iruka’s body until his eyes met Iruka’s and—well shit. He was handsome. He had dark eyes, a light scar marring the skin of one in a way that was ruggedly handsome. His features were all narrow but defined, colored by a pale complexion that made them appear almost delicately sculpted, almost like porcelain and just as washed out. Even his hair was a surreal light shade, appearing silver and Iruka thought it must be the lighting.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked, and considering the circumstance, it had far less sexual undertones than what would be expected. That very well could have been a relief but Iruka was feeling a little annoyed at how bored he sounded.

Iruka had to refrain from quirking a judgmental brow as he slapped one cuff over his own wrist before reaching for the man’s.

“Well, your friend told me it’s your birthday,” Iruka said as the free cuff clasped closed around the man’s wrist. At his now cuffed wrist, the man's brows raised in subtle interest that made Iruka smirk. “And, your friend wants you to have a good time, so,” Iruka reached out to where the man held his phone pushed it down, satisfied when the man complied and allowed it to settle in his lap. “Pay attention.” Iruka threw a leg over the man’s thighs, knees settled on either side of him as he peered up through dark lashes.

The man’s facial expression had changed, though it was still hard to read. All that mattered was that Iruka had his attention and at that, Iruka felt a little victorious. Looking between Iruka and the cuffs, the man seemed to have come to some sort of consensus.

“Alright,” he said as he leaned back in his seat, his eyes unflinchingly settled on Iruka's in a way that felt like a challenge. It was exciting. “You have my attention.”

With hidden excitement, Iruka began moving his body fluidly in time with the music, pressing his uncuffed hand against the man’s chest to push him firmly back. The man easily complied and Iruka couldn’t help but smirk a little coyly as he skittered his fingers lightly over the man’s chest, shoulder, and a thrill ran through him at the firm muscle he could make out just beneath the thin fabric of the man's shirt. 

Giving a proper lap dance did prove to be a little challenging with his hand bound to his recipient’s, but Iruka managed. He was restricted to close movements, but Iruka wasn’t exactly complaining about that; he wasn't exactly inclined to keep his distance--not with that jawline.The man shamelessly held eye contact whilst Iruka raised to one knee and delivered a fluid body roll. It seemed every single instance Iruka met the man’s eyes, he was staring right back with a gaze neither intense nor fleeting. Instead, it felt like he was being calculated, critiqued, challenged. Iruka was always one for a challenge. He gave lap dances to all sorts of people; ones who blushed abashedly, who laughed and smiled and ones who genuinely seemed enraptured, like they wanted nothing more than to bring Iruka home with them. This man however, was an enigma. His eyes would flit over Iruka’s form shamelessly but would remain otherwise impassive. Iruka wanted very much to make those impassive eyes widen in desire or brows raise in interest, but the man kept reserved. Never in Iruka’s life had he felt so frustrated and thrilled while giving someone a lap dance.

As he so adamantly tried to wrench some sort of reaction from this man, Iruka was beginning to lose track of time. He couldn’t be sure how long it had been exactly, but he couldn’t draw this dance out any longer without it seeming suspiciously excessive. Iruka really wasn't opposed to keep going, but as tempting a thought it was to continue this game, Iruka would much rather be home in his bed. Although, Iruka didn't see the harm in making his conclusion a bit dramatic.  Iruka smirked and slid his free hand down the man’s chest, intently maintaining eye contact as that seemed to be something this stranger rather liked. Then, in slow, fluid movements, Iruka stood up and slotted himself between the man’s legs, back arched downward with his palms settled over the bench on either side of the man. Iruka allowed a few strands of hair to messily fall across one side of his face as he drew himself down, his hands dragging over the man’s abdomen, across his inner thighs and down his legs, until Iruka’s knees hit the floor between the man’s legs. Iruka leaned his cheek against the man's inner knee, their cuffed hands settling on the man’s knee where he also settled is cheek, looking up to smirk at the man through dark lashes.

“Have a nice night,” Iruka said, overly sweet and purposefully suggestive with his cheek still pressed against the inside of this stranger’s knee. 

“Done so soon?” the man asked, clearly teasing, as if Iruka hadn’t spent an unusual amount of time trying to win as little as a gasp or shiver from him.

“Disappointed?,” Iruka quipped back, his smirk coy as he peered up at the man. He stood up, the silver haired man having no choice but to follow the movement with their wrists still bound. That didn’t stop Iruka from being startled at the resulting proximity from which he stood--close enough that Iruka couldn’t help but run his eyes over his slim, yet broad figure. 

A subtle jerk from the cuffs reminded Iruka that he really should uncuff them instead of ogling this man's figure. His brows shot up in realization as he reached with his free hand to feel for the key that hung on his back belt-loop. However, as Iruka’s fingers brushed nothing but fabric, he tensed.

“Oh no,” he uttered thoughtlessly, eyes widening as he jerked both hands to pat at his back pockets. Devastatingly, the movement was ill considered as it abruptly tugged his recipient toward him, the man’s palm finding clumsy purchase on Iruka’s upper thigh as he stumbled forward. Iruka’s instinct to punch, kick, and defend against someone invading his space was only overpowered by a sudden wave of anxiety. As the motion brought their faces a mere few inches apart, Iruka’s breath hitched.  Urgently, he settled his hands atop the man’s shoulders, settling him back upright and was relieved when the hand was lifted from Iruka's thigh, his skin tingled in its wake.

“I am so sorry, I—um,” Iruka stammered anxiously, eyes hesitantly meeting the man’s gaze. The man quirked a brow at him, and it could have meant anything—concern, amusement, flirtatiousness—but at the moment, as Iruka’s nerves spiked with anxious adrenaline, it meant annoyance and conveyed this man’s readiness to complain to the club owner about the horrible service which would lead to Iruka being inevitably banned for unwanted advances and then he’d have to go back to juggling two jobs and his education in addition to finding himself once again eating cheap instant ramen every single night in place of a well-balanced meal and he could kiss all his monthly subscriptions goodbye. He truly was blind to the luxury of having spare time and extra spending money, and he swore he’d never take it for granted again if he made it through the night without being handed the proverbial pink slip that didn't even  _ exist _ for this kind of job. 

“You wouldn’t have happened to misplaced the key to your cuffs now, would you officer?” Iruka was startled from his nightmarish daydream as the man raised the cuffs between them.

“No!” Iruka immediately protested, earning a pair of suspiciously raised brows.

“Oh? You’re sure about that?” the man asked, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. Iruka opened his mouth to protest, but his voice to died in his throat. He didn't know what exactly to say, since he couldn't very well uncuff the man.

Slumping his shoulders and rolling his eyes upward to curse whatever deity was having fun tormenting him, Iruka sighed.

“Just follow me,” he said without explanation. The man complied without asking for further clarification. For that, Iruka was grateful. Though he prayed to the gods (which he believed in on and off at his own discretion) that the key be sitting along with his other belongings, he wasn't even sure himself.

As they walked Iruka willed himself to fight the blush he could feel creeping up his neck and waking his ears. He was already ashamed to have put a patron in this situation, but what’s more troublesome, however, was that Iruka knew exactly what they looked like; Iruka leading a client into the quiet isolation of one of the backrooms, away from prying eyes—and handcuffed nonetheless. While typically this wasn’t the kind of club that allowed underhanded backroom activities--extra “private shows and dances” for “special” clients willing to pay a little extra--it wasn’t unheard of either. Either way, it looked scandalous.

As they reached the backstage door and stepped inside, Iruka could just make out the sound of a wolf-whistle that had him hurriedly shutting the door behind them. Iruka winced. He knew there was no way the man hadn't heard the whistle. He pinched his brows in distressed and he chanced a look at his unintended prisoner. To Iruka's relief, the man seemed unphasee, meaning he either didn't notice, or simply opted to feign ignorance. Either way, Iruka was grateful.

The newfound silence of the sectioned off hall rang in his ears, but was a relief overall. Usually Iruka found that there was a certain sanctity to escaping the rambunctiousness of the dance floor. This time unfortunately, the thin light metal brace around his wrist bore heavily down on his skin as a reminder that he was still very much not alone and likely in the most awkward situation he’d ever been in.

Iruka looked over at the man, who was peering around at their surroundings with eyes that seemed to never be anything but calculating. He tensed as his eyes settled on him with a quirked brow. Iruka opened his mouth with intention say something that might mend the situation or make it less awkward at least. Instead, all that came out was a near painted sigh as he sheepishly looked away. 

“Follow me,” Iruka uttered without much consideration for his words. The man raised a brow and looked down at their bound wrists, giving them an implicating tug.

“Well, if you insist,” he said, his tone so dry Iruka couldn’t tell for the life of himself if he was teasing lightheartedly or if there was genuine annoyance brewing beneath his words. Iruka was already at such a loss, he couldn't even find it in himself to care either way. 

As they began walking Iruka did take a moment to be grateful his hair was down. Hopefully, it was doing something to obscure his reddening face. It was funny, honestly. Iruka never felt insecure wearing skimpy outfits when he was out dancing under the faze of dozens of sets of eyes. But right then, alone with just this one man in the hall, Iruka was painfully aware of all his exposed skin.

Once they reached the room, Iruka’s hands couldn’t move fast enough to open the door. Inside the room, on a counter  located just before a large rectangular mirror lined with lights sat his bag like a beacon of hope. Iruka refrained from overtly sighing in relief as he hastily walked over to it, absentmindedly apologizing to the man for tugging him along without warning.

“I’m so sorry,” he said as he raised his hands to rummage around the bag, not paying much mind when the man’s hand was brought along to hover idly beside Iruka’s searching one. The man didn’t say anything in response, which Iruka couldn’t decide was good or bad, but was rather content in not knowing.

As his hand padded around the inside of one of the smaller pockets, Iruka's figure perked when he felt cool thin metal brush against his fingertips. Iruka held his breath as he pinched the small object and pulled it from the bag to reveal a small, cheap metal key that weighed like freedom between his fingertips. Only then did he silently exhale in relief. He could have prayed with the small object clasped between his hands like a rosary. 

 Iruka tugged the cuffs up unceremoniously, once again jerking the man’s hand along with his own. The man side-eyed him with the same passive expression that, with every passing moment, became more and more ominous with its silent ambiguity.

“Sorry,” Iruka quickly apologized once again and wasted no time in turning his attention to the cuffs, fiddling the key into the small slot. As it turned out, trying to fit the already small key into the equally small lock hole proved to be challenging with Iruka’s hands anxiously unsteady. 

As if the situation couldn’t become even more awkward, the key slipped from Iruka’s tremulous fingers and clattered to the floor. The resounding ring the key made upon landing was by all means a minuscule sound, but it rang violently in Iruka’s ears, making him flinch. It took all of the young man’s restraint not to groan in despair right then and there and instead, he took a steadying breath before he kneeled down, the man having no choice but to follow the movement. Brows pinched, Iruka closed his eyes as he settled on his haunches.

“I’m so—”

“Sorry?”

Iruka froze, flicking his gaze to the man. He fully expected to see him scowling but found only the same unreadable expression as before. A sudden light tug from the cuffs made Iruka look down to find that, in his stupor, the man managed to grab the fallen key himself and was uncuffing them. “Don’t be,” he said in a lighthearted tone. The cuffs popped open then, slipping from their wrists and onto the floor. Iruka blinked at his now bare wrist in confusion.

“What?” he didn’t actually mean to bark out, nevermind as flabbergasted as it sounded. The man stood up, rubbing at his freed wrist. Iruka followed the movement, still looking at the other man with a confused expression. He was sure the other would be upset with him. From the very beginning, he seemed altogether like he didn’t want to be there and Iruka was highly under the impression that he hadn't exactly helped in that aspect. He was sure that his demeanor would have shifted from indifference to plain aggravation at that point.

“Well,” the man began conversationally as he looked at Iruka, slipping his hands into the pockets of his pants. “It’s just that, there are worse things that could happen on your birthday.” The same unreadable expression was settled on Iruka, only now with a slight (and admittedly handsome) smirk tugging up the corners of his lips. “Now I have a story to tell my coworkers. Wait until they hear a handsome young dancer handcuffed me and lead me backstage.”

 Iruka gawked, trying to comprehend the man’s words before he realized—it was a  _ joke _ . That revelation meant that the man must not have been as angry as Iruka feared if he could make a joke out the entire ordeal. It was such a relief, it made a sudden laugh bubble out of Iruka before he caught himself and cleared his throat.

“That’s out of context,” Iruka quietly laughed and rested back against the edge of the counter, his hands curling around the lip.

“Maa, technicalities,” the man said and waved a dismissive hand. Iruka looked down and bit at his smile, feeling both relieved and maybe a little flirtatious.. “Well,” said the taller man, prompting Iruka to look up. He stepped forward and held his hand held out. Iruka raised his brows before he understood and proffered his hand, palm up as the man dropped the cuff key into his palm.

“Thank you,” Iruka said as he secured his fist around the small object. He didn't clarify that his thanks was for more than just the key.

Taking a step back, the man pulled out his phone to peer down at it, likely checking the time. “In any case, I should be leaving now," he said, prompting Iruka to peer over at a clock hanging behind Kakashi’s head. Iruka breathed a sigh.

 “Me too actually,” he said and raised a hand to push away the stray hair falling into his face. He’d have to wait for the next bus if he stayed much longer, which would carve another thirty minutes out of his night and was less than ideal.

“Oh? stay late just for me?” the man asked and Iruka was cautious in believing he might be flirting. 

“Maybe,” Iruka quipped easily with a smirk and thought the other man might appear a little staggered at the flirtatious comeback. His smirk slipped into a grin that he tried to hide as he ducked his head, hair falling over his face.

There was a tiny huff that sounded eerily akin to a chuckle, but when Iruka looked up, the man was turning away, a hand placed on the door handle as he pushed it open. “Well, goodnight then—and thank you for the interesting night.” he said as he stepped out, the word interesting seemingly carefully selected. Iruka could have been over analyzing things, but the man seemed playful, maybe even flirtatious if Iruka was feeling particularly confident. However, when the door clicked shut and Iruka stood alone, he decided it likely didn’t matter what it seemed like. He knew who most of the regulars there were, if not by name then by face; that man wasn’t one of them. He tried not to feel a little disappointed at the revelation. After all, he didn’t know the man at all--didn’t even get his  _ name-- _ and no matter how handsome he may have been, it was silly to entertain the thought of him becoming a frequent. Iruka would likely never see him again.

With an enervated sigh no doubt in directed at his own foolishness, Iruka reached for his bag and lugged it over to a changing stall, where he began slipping into something more suitable for public transportation. His movements only hesitated when he grabbed the small silver key to place in his bag paused. He stared at it as he recalled the events of the night before he decidedly secured it to the shorts' belt loop where it should have been in the first place. He did not need a repeat of tonight…even if it did make the outfit feel like more of a worthy investment.

#

For the next couple of days, the nameless man from the club didn’t cross Iruka’s mind. Keeping up with classwork and work-work made sure of that. He hardly had time for himself, never mind to spare thoughts for an admittedly handsome stranger he’d likely never see again.

Life went on.

Iruka woke up early for his morning class, which he now grew to regret taking but it fit his schedule best. That way, he had time for two classes before he had to head off to his internship at the middle school. Even so, it was never pleasant dragging his sleep addled body to the bus stop,  _ especially  _ in the winter. He never did get his license; orphanages weren’t exactly handing out driving lessons or cars for that matter, so he was doomed to rely on public transportation.

He was in the middle of completing an assignment when Anko approached him, heaving an exhausted sigh and she plopped down on the outdoor work bench beside him.

“Iruka,” she whined, “Can you write my essay for me?” She rolled her head onto his shoulder, slumping her body against his. Iruka grimaced when the movement caused his fingers to clumsily hit a few extra keys.

“Maybe. If you pay me,” he replied simply, backspacing the gibberish on his computer screen.

“How much?” she asked, entirely serious and not at all to Iruka’s surprise.

“When is it due?”

“Next class.”

“Absolutely not happening, then.”

Anko screeched offendedly right into Iruka’s ear, who cringed at the cry and kindly shoved her away.

“Iruka!” she whined louder. Iruka sighed, saved his work and closed his laptop atop the workbench.

“Anko, I’m leaving to my internship in a few minutes. I don’t have time. Consider this punishment for doing things at the last minute,” he reprimanded. Anko wrinkled her nose distastefully at him.

“I know you want to be a teacher and all, but you don’t have to practice disapproving lectures on me,” she murmured flatly. Iruka smiled at her, sweet and deceivingly disarming--good teacher qualities.  

“But you’re why I’m so good at them already.”

Anko appeared ready to protest, opening her mouth only to pause, purse her lips in thought and nodded. “That’s fair.” Iruka rolled his eyes, despite the small smile tugging at his lips.

“Between you and Naruto, disciplining middle schoolers is going to be a breeze.”

Anko hummed in agreement. “Speaking of the little brat, he’s going to be at your middle school by the time you start teaching, right?”

Iruka nodded. “Hopefully. If everything goes accordingly for him and me.” Iruka still wasn’t sure how he felt about his foster brother attending the same school he was supposed to begin teaching at in a year. He wanted to be happy about it but mostly, taking into consideration Naruto’s behavior patterns, it made him nervous. “Now get off of me, you’re the reason people think I’m straight,” he said, shrugging her off his shoulder. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, but complied, sitting upright.

“I’m the reason?” she barked a laugh. “Iruka, you’re the reason nobody thinks you’re gay. No, scratch that, you’re the reason nobody thinks you date in general. All you do is work. You hardly make time for anyone other than your little gremlin of a foster brother, which is dumb because you have the time to mingle now,” she accused and suggestively shoulders Iruka’s side.

Iruka rolled his eyes. “Not this again,” he sighed.

She wasn’t wrong per se. Iruka knew he had more time on his hands since he started dancing, but truthfully, he found a certain comfort in his work. It kept him on his toes, kept him busy. Iruka reasoned that he was restless and liked being occupied, but Anko would always frown and tell him he just didn’t like having free time to think—accused him of drowning his problems and loneliness under work and class, which, of course, was absurd...

“What?” she laughed. “I’m just saying. You could snatch someone up easily if you just let yourself talk to people. You’re a young adult, you’ve got your shit together, you’re handsome. Guys dig that,” she crooned, elbowing Iruka. He swatted her away.

“I’m just occupied right now. I have— _ priorities _ , which you should look into developing,” he said as he stood to stuff his laptop into his backpack.

 Anko blew raspberries as a means of conveying how absurd the suggestion was. “You mean distractions and diversion?” she said before perking up upon realizing Iruka gathering his things. “Leaving already?” she asked. Iruka slung his bag over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’ve got to catch the bus.” Anko made an understanding noise.

“Even more reason to get yourself a boyfriend; maybe he’ll have a car,” she persisted. Iruka rolled his eyes.

 “Goodbye, Anko,” he said, voice bland and began walking.

“Oh! Bye the way,” she said quickly, prompting Iruka to turn and quirk a brow at her. “There’s a spot open if you wanted to fill it tonight.” 

Iruka’s eyes widened in a start as he looked around to make certain nobody heard. He scowled then.

“I told you not to talk about that in public!” he whispered harshly. Anko rolled her eyes.

“I used vague wording,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “So that a  _ ‘yes’ _ , or?”

“ _ Or _ ,” Iruka supplied, before sighing in defeat. “Maybe. I’m not sure. I’ll text you.” Anko nodded and shrugged, leaning down to slip her own laptop from her bag to no doubt begin working on her extremely impromptu essay.

“Alright, just let me know. Until then, have fun at your glorified daycare,” she said by way of farewell. Iruka grunted with a fond roll of his eyes and headed off.

Iruka loved Anko, he really did. He knew she cared about him but this recent objective of hers to see Iruka in a relationship was driving Iruka mad. If Iruka had to guess why, he’d say it was because she was afraid of him being lonely. Truthfully, Iruka wouldn’t know if he was. She had a point in saying he spent every second doing something productive. He didn’t exactly allow himself the time to be lonely—or at least that’s what he told himself, late at night when his bed felt a little too big.

#

Once again, Iruka found himself waiting for the bus out in the cold. When Iruka was sitting in the courtyard doing his homework with the warm sunlight beaming down on him, it honestly felt rather nice. However, there by the road where cars sent the wind into a nonstop freezing whirlwind Iruka thought otherwise. He considered then, with the wind whipping around him, his sweater doing nothing against the onslaught of cold crisp air, that maybe he should get a boyfriend with a car. He wondered if that would be appropriate to put in a Grinder bio: _ “Interested in someone with a car. No other requirements, just a car and a capability to drive around in said car.” _ A tempting concept.

When the bus finally did arrive, he sat in the closest available seat to the front and slipped on some headphones that he more often than not didn’t actually play music on. They were mostly a front; a way of seeming unaware of his surroundings so people would think him unavailable for conversation. That wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy conversations with strangers, but the bus ride was his short reprieve between responsibilities. All he did was breath and take in the quiet hum of the bus engine, stare out the window and just think as he peered at the fluctuating telephone wires. It was peaceful—almost cathartic, until the bus came to a slow halt and hissed its exhaust in time with Iruka’s.

As he walked on campus, he felt a little thrill run through him as he considered that sometime next year, he’d have his own class there. All he had to do was finish this year of interning and he’d begin his career as a teacher. Then all the stress and long nights would be worth it.

When he made it to the classroom, Kurenai, the teacher he was interning for, was there standing at the whiteboard. As he entered, there was something so immensely satisfying and equally terrifying about hearing a herd of twelve-year-olds cheer his name upon arrival.

“IRUKA-SENSEI!” they hailed in scattered voices, interrupting whatever Kurenai had previously been saying. She paused to stare at them all disapprovingly, crossing her arms and they all immediately sunk guiltily back in their seats. She tended to have that effect on people; possessing a sort of unbreakable patience that, when actually piqued, evoked a sense of immediate guilt. Iruka liked that method, though he intended to incorporate a bit more scolding and reprimanding into his teaching tactics, to make up for his  _ not so _ bountiful patience.   

Iruka smiled at her sympathetically, to which she shrugged fondly, albeit tired.

“Iruka sensei, we're having a detective come in today! He's gonna bring a dog!” one of the students, Usagi, declared, clearly more excited about the dog. Iruka smiled and looked over to the whiteboard where Kurenai had points written in bold marker, all under the title, _ “The Do’s and Don'ts for Detective Hatake’s visit.” _

Iruka completely forgot they were having a volunteer. Apparently it was someone Kurenai knew personally; a friend from her own crime investigation days before she decided it wasn’t for her and became a teacher instead. Iruka never asked what made her quit, but also figured it wasn’t his place. 

“Alright everyone, I want you all to prepare questions for Detective Hatake—and I expect a list of at least five specific things you found interesting about his visit,” she said and Iruka could tell they were improvised instructions. The children immediately began murmuring amongst themselves, exchanging thoughts and speaking entirely off-topic, though Kurenai didn’t seem to mind much as she turned to Iruka.

“Welcome back Iruka Sensei,” she greeted with a gentle smile.

“Glad to be back,” he replied, eyes trailing over to the board. Some of the points were silly additions, no doubt Kurenai humoring her students, but one in particular was underlined and neatly written. “Do not ask invasive, or inappropriate questions”. Iruka wondered how much time Kurenai must have spent elaborating that particular point. Considering the field of work, Iruka could understand why. “So,” Iruka said as he turned to Kurenai, smiling. “When’s the volunteer arriving?”  Kurenai’s smile twitched before falling into a subtle eye roll.

“Well, truthfully, he should already be here, but I expected this. He has a tendency to show up late when he’s being reluctant; he’s become sort of notorious for it,” she muttered. Though she was complaining, there was a certain fondness in her tone. “As of now, I’m stalling. These kids were promised they’d see a dog and until they do, they’ll be rambunctious as ever."

Iruka chuckled. “Poor man hasn’t even had the chance to make an appearance and his dog has already upstaged him.” Kurenai sighed, resigned.

Just then, there was a brief knock at the door, shortly followed by the rattle of the handle and a pressure change as the door pushed open. “Sorry I’m late,” the visitor called out.

Iruka turned toward the door, ready to greet their guest only for all niceties catch in his throat. 

Iruka froze.

There, standing in the doorway with an abashed hand rubbing the back of his neck, was a face Iruka had been trying adamantly to forget for the past few days. It was the from the club.

_ The  _ man from the club. 

The man he gave a lap dance to. The man he handcuffed. The man he dragged backstage after losing the keys to said handcuffs. The man he shamelessly teased and flirted with.

In that moment, Iruka wondered to himself why, if the higher powers of this universe hated him so much, couldn’t they just strike him down in one merciful blow instead of dragging it painfully out like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so, this one is definitely going to be interesting and a bit surprising to anyone who reads my fics regularly because hoo is this one an outlier in every sense.  
> I'm still debating whether or not to continue this, but I've got quite a bit of it written out so I figured I'd go ahead and post the first chapter to see if anyone is interested!  
> In the meantime this piece is intended to be fun, cute, a little angsty and way less sexual than you're all probably expecting (went M just to be safe though, might change the rating later)!!  
> I'm kind of super hyped and a little conflicted about how to get the story where I want it, but we'll see what happens!
> 
> (Also, Just an FYI, I use gay as an umbrella term here for LGBT+, particularly when referring to the club!) 
> 
> Kudos are always greatly appreciated and if you're interested, do comment and tell me your thoughts so far!
> 
> Also, feel free to scream at me on my [TUMBLR](https://litaluna.tumblr.com/), where you can also find my other links!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"However handsome the man might have seemed before, all Iruka could see now was five feet and nine inches of occupational sabotage."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TUMBLR](https://litaluna.tumblr.com/)
> 
> UPDATE**  
> *****Sorry if anyone got a notification saying this updated!!! I accidentally hit post on the next chapter when I meant to hit preview it is NOT READY for the world to see yet! Soon though, I swear. It's all written out, I just have to read over it. Again I AM SORRY if I got anyone's hopes up but soon!*****

For the past few weeks, Iruka had the nagging thought that he’d been too comfortable. He wasn't exactly anticipating for his luck to run out, but he was _ready_. Granted, he knew he shouldn’t base his life on concepts of luck or fate any more than he should rely on it. He knew he wasn’t just lucky, he worked hard to maintain his lifestyle. However, as this one man, painfully familiar even behind the medical mask now obscuring his lower face, stood in the establishment of his future career, Iruka found his internal locus of control wavering.

“Hatake san,” Kurenai greeted in a formal manner, likely to set a good example for the kids. Her voice pulled Iruka from his mindless staring to look at her. “Nice of you to finally join us.” 

The man—Hatake—raised a hand to rub abashedly at the back of his neck. “Maa, Shiba wanted to go on an adventure,” he apologized  in a way that didn’t seem entirely earnest. He gestured his hand toward the dog at his side. _Shiba_ was medium height with grey fur and pointed ears that were currently pulled back as it peered up at its owner as if affronted by the accusation.

Kurenai stared at him a moment longer, unimpressed by his excuse but didn’t linger on it as she turned to address the class.

“Class, meet Detective Hatake,” she introduced, motioning her hand toward Hatake who gave a lazy, unenthusiastic wave that went entirely unnoticed by the children. It was clear their attention focused elsewhere, specifically in the furry beast that stood obediently by Hatake’s side.

Kurenai fondly rolled her eyes at their blatant disinterest before adding, “and _this_ ,” she gestured to the dog, “Is Shiba.” Not a moment later were the lot of them bursting out coos and awes, all gawking in adoration. Shiba seemingly enjoyed the attention, his figure perking and tail giving a few short wags.

Iruka probably would have found it funny, might have even have laughed if he weren’t currently terrified. However handsome the man might have seemed before, all Iruka could see now was five feet and nine inches of occupational sabotage.

“Hatake san, this is Iruka sensei. My intern.” Iruka’s eyes widened and his neck could have snapped with how quickly be looked over to Hatake. It felt like slow motion, the process of Hatake dragging his eyes up Iruka’s frame. The sensation was almost physical, a paranoid tingling sensation where Hatake’s gaze traveled over Iruka’s waist, chest, neck, and then finally, Iruka’s eyes.

Despite the way his breath hitched upon making eye contact, Iruka tried his hardest to appear unfrazzled, flicking his gaze between both of Hatake’s eyes. He waited with bated breath for a reaction; for the man’s eyes to widen in recollection, scowl in displeasure, even blurt out his familiarity to Iruka for the world to hear. However, more to Iruka’s confusion and relief, the man simply offered a subtle, respectful bow.

“Nice to meet you, Sensei,” he said, and in Iruka’s bafflement, he nearly forgot to return the gesture.

“You as well, Hatake san,” he said with minimal stuttering and a curt bow that he hoped wasn’t as stiff as he felt. When Iruka was standing upright again, he found that Hatake’s eyes had shifted to the class, leaving Iruka to blink in confusion.

He hadn’t even flinched. Hadn’t given any indication whatsoever that he recognized Iruka. Then it occurred to Iruka--and the looming dark clouds in his future started to part--maybe Hatake san didn’t recognize him.

By all means Hatake should recognize Iruka given all the hassle he put the man through. It wasn’t exactly an average night at the club, or at least Iruka certainly hoped not. But maybe—Iruka supposed as he stared at the profile of Hatake’s bored expression, blank and unfazed—maybe, luck wasn’t entirely against him. After all, Iruka supposed he might look different in the bright lighting with his hair up and a considerable lack of exposed skin. It wasn’t impossible, he supposed and exhaled a relieved muted sigh, tense muscles relaxing ever so slightly at the possibility.

“Alright class,” Kurenai called out, gaining the reluctant attention of the students, who all appeared content to mindlessly ogle Shiba. She informed them of how the rest of class would unfold for Hatake’s visit, entailing that they’d be outside for most of it.

As Kurenai explained, Iruka kept finding his eyes shifting over to Hatake, who stared vacantly at seemingly nothing. His eyes were distant and unperturbed, settled somewhere and nowhere at the back of the classroom. Iruka tried desperately hard to falter that same expression and the small victory he earned in the end made him more than a little triumphant. Admittedly, it left Iruka just slightly bitter that the man seemed to have so easily forgotten him. While Iruka wasn't exactly thinking nonstop about  him, he did reluctantly find his own thoughts occasionally wandering back to him; the firm muscle he felt beneath his fingertips, the dry humoristic remarks and the admittedly well-sculpted features and— _listen_ , he was human and very, _very_ single.

By no means was he complaining. A little wounded pride and a jab at his ego was well preferred over the potential deconstruction of all the foundation he’d put into his future.  

As Kurenai wrapped up her instructions, the students began assembling their materials and stood to begin filing out of the classroom. As Iruka followed, he noticed Kurenai staring at him from the doorway. Something about the expression made him tense; like he was being carefully observed. Before Iruka could question what the look was for, a student called for Kurenai, prompting her to continue down the hall. Iruka lingered in the class a moment, confused before he brushed it off with a subtle shake of his head and left the classroom.Maybe it was a detective thing, retired or not, to be so cryptic. Either way, Iruka didn’t give it much more thought as he followed behind the class, Kakashi and Kurenai talking up ahead, out of hearing range, likely catching up. Though, with Asuma, Kurenai’s fiancé, still in crime investigation, Iruka would imagine they still interacted frequently enough, at least through Asuma.

As Iruka caught up with the students, he could see the basketball court in the distance, one end of it lined with ramps, hurdles and tunnels.

“What are those for?” one student asked, not to anyone in particular. Iruka was about to answer with his own assumption, but another voice spoke out before he could.

“It’s an obstacle course for Shiba,” Hatake supplied, matter-of-fact.

The boy furrowed his brows and looked at the dog. “What’s he gonna do?” he asked.

Kakashi hummed thoughtfully. “I guess that will be up to you all,” he said vaguely. 

They came to a halt in the center of the court. Kurenai and Kakashi stood to face the class while Iruka stood a little further away from the two of them than he might usually. He wasn't exactly trying to catch Hatake's eye if he had indeed forgotten him--didn't want to refresh his memory. 

“So,” Kurenai began, “As you all know, Detective Hatake is a criminal investigator. Specifically, he specializes in the K-9 Unit, where dogs are trained to execute certain tasks and skills, like Shiba here." She gestured to the dog to whom the children once more decided to coo quietly at. “Today, Detective Hatake will be guiding us through some of the many techniques utilized in the field.” With that, she turned to Hatake, who stood slouched beside her. Iruka couldn’t see the look she gave him, but it was enough to have him sighing and stepping forward as he tugged a pouch from his vest. Whatever it was certainly piqued Shiba’s attention, as the dog’s head tilted in interest, his tail giving a brief excited wag.

“Who here can tell me one thing the K-9 Unit does?” Hatake asked, bag pinched between his fingers. Several hands shot up in response before Hatake gestured for the child closest to him for an answer.  

“They sniff out illegal substances,” the girl said, to which Hatake nodded.

“Yes, and though Shiba will not be sniffing out any illegal substances, he will be trying to find where you all hide these treats,” he explained, tossing the girl a treat from the pouch. She caught it a bit clumsily, clasping it between two palms before looking up in confusion.

“Hide it somewhere in the obstacle course over there,” he said, cocking his head toward the setup. “Once Shiba finds it, he’ll return it and you can give him a command and feed it to him,” he explained.

The girl’s face near visibly lit as she hopped to her feet, rushing over to the setup as Hatake commanded Shiba to lay facing the opposite direction.

Once the girl returned, Hatake and Shiba both walked over to the course. It took less than a minute for Shiba to sniff out the treat, barking upon finding it in a small cloth tunnel. Obediently, Shiba waited until Kakashi walked over to retrieve the treat, and promptly had the girl instruct Shiba to interact with three items on the court. Per her request, Shiba leapt over a hurdle, crawled through a tunnel and jumped over a ramp. Iruka was a little surprised to see such complex commands given and executed.

They continued that pattern for a while, or at least until Hatake decided Shiba really shouldn’t have any more treats. Questions were then left  up to the students who were finally showing some interest in their _human_ guest. All the while, Kurenai remained in the background of Hatake, casting watchful eyes amongst the students.

Not too long later were they wrapping up, all the children standing from their cross-legged positions on the court. As they walked toward the classroom, Iruka kept his distance and lingered in the far back. From there, he could clearly see everyone as they headed toward the classroom; the students all chatting to one another, Kurenai speaking with Hatake as Shiba obediently pattering by his side.

As he stared in Hatake’s general direction, he wondered if that was really it; if all his fretting about the downfall of his career was so easily smoothed over with some bad memory.

Even though Iruka knew taking up the job as a dancer would be risky—knew it could potentially impede on his main career—he never actually prepared for it to happen. He often reasoned that the odds of ever meeting someone at the club who taught at Konoha Middle were slim. It was a _gay_ club roughly thirty minutes away and that alone meant whoever went there had to be (a) gay and (b) local to the downtown area. For a teacher to meet both those criteria in _this_ part of town seemed unlikely to Iruka. But then, figures, it wasn’t even someone familiar to the school but the _one_ volunteer they had all year. Forget having an internal locus of control, some higher power was having a good laugh tugging the strings of Iruka's life.

Having become lost in thought, Iruka realized the class had managed to walk so far ahead that they were now out of sight, likely already in the classroom. He hadn’t realized how slow he was walking, but didn’t particularly mind being left behind. He could use the few seconds of mind-clearing silence. Nothing but the white noise of wind rustling the leaves in the trees, the occasional chirp of birds, the repetitive pitter-patter of something Iruka couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“So, I guess the internship must not be paying well.”

Iruka’s soul all but left his body and he would deny any accusations regarding the shamefully high pitched cry that _did not_ escape his lips.

“What the f—” Iruka stumbled forward in bewilderment, turning swiftly on clumsy feet to face the sudden—and eerily familiar—voice.

“Ah ah, language, sensei, preteens are very impressionable,” Hatake blandly reprimanded where he stood before Iruka. Iruka then realized three things; the repetitive pitter-patter was none other than Shiba’s paws on the sidewalk, Hatake was probably walking beside Iruka much longer than it took him to notice, and lastly(and most horrifyingly), Hatake knew _exactly_ who Iruka was.

Iruka blinked at the man, trying to wrap his head around what was happening as well as attempting to coherently form words.

“Wait—you were—I thought you—” Iruka furrowed his brows and scowled at the man. “You knew?!” he accused, horrified.

The man, seemingly confused for reasons beyond Iruka, quirked a brow.

“Well, you do look quite different with your hair up, but given my occupation it would be embarrassing if I didn’t... Plus, you showed me _such_ an interesting time--” he said, face so painfully blank, now twice as much behind the sick mask. The man was already unreadable and now Iruka had to try to figure him out with half his face obscured behind a sick mask--which, might Iruka just add was extremely unnecessary. The man didn't wear it to a club of all places, but being around children was apparently where he drew the line, which...okay, was kind of understandable. Kids could be pretty gross, but not even half as gross as some of the seedy consumers who frequented the club. 

"Sh, _shush!_ Don’t be so loud!” Iruka hushed violently, frantically peering around to  ensure nobody heard. Only once he was satisfied they were alone did he level Hatake with a look crossed between horrified and frustrated. “I thought you didn’t recognize me! You—You barely glanced at me!” Iruka whispered sharply, still sending cautious glances around them.

Hatake shrugged. “Well, I hardly thought you’d want to explain how we knew each other; our meeting at the—”

“Okay, okay!” Iruka said with another frantic wave of his hands, brows furrowed anxiously. “I get it, okay? Please just—” Iruka looked to the man, eyes pleading. “You cannot tell anyone,” he said, before adding a frantic, “Please!”

The man’s second brow raised to meet the other in what Iruka thought was likely amusement and thus decided Hatake must be a sadist.

“Maa, Sensei, I’ve never been one for gossip,” he dismissed with a flippant wave of one hand.

Iruka furrowed his brows at the ambiguity of the response.“Hatake san I’m serious! I could lose my job. Nobody wants to hear that their children are being taught by a part-time—”

 

“Dancer?” Hatake interrupted before adding, “And just Kakashi, is fine.”

Iruka furrowed his brows in confusion, at both the much less provocative title given to Iruka’s second occupation, and the request to call him by an informal first name.

“Kakashi san, then,” Iruka corrected. Kakashi furrowed his brows, but seemed to shrug off whatever displeased him. “And I don’t think that’s the title other people would use.” Iruka could think of plenty of words parents would have for him, and none of them fit becomingly beside the occupation “teacher”.

Kakashi shrugged. “Technicalities.”

Iruka scrunched his face up, Kakashi’s laid back demeanor a bit insulting in the face of Iruka’s (for the most part concealed, but still very present) panicking.

“Hatake— _Kakashi_ san,” Iruka corrected. “I’m serious! I’ll—” Iruka paused, trying to think of something he could offer as incentive for the man’s silence, but if he was being honest, he didn’t have much to offer. He stared at the ground below their feet, eyes darting around as he struggled to think up a bargain—anything to keep this man's mouth shut.

“Iruka Sensei,” a gentle but firm voice distantly called. Iruka jumped, startled from his thoughts. He turned to find Kurenai standing in the entrance of the sixth grade building, patiently staring in their direction. Iruka blinked and turned back to Kakashi, but the man was walking away, lazily waving with one hand stuffed in his pocket.

“See you around, Sensei,” he said as he walked away. Iruka tensed. He found himself conflicted, standing in place as he debated between chasing after Kakashi to get some closure or returning to Kurenai and the class as they waited. Iruka felt mild panic beginning to rise in him with every second Kakashi ambled further away because Kakashi knew who he was. Kakashi remembered him and Iruka had no idea what that meant for his future.

As reason caught up to Iruka however, he realized he only had one choice here, and that was to return to the class. What if he did chase after Kakashi? How would he explain to Kurenai what was so important that he had to abandon his internship to speak to Kakashi?

Reluctantly (and a bit numbly) Iruka managed to tear his eyes from Kakashi’s now distant form and turned to walk toward Kurenai. She kindly held the door open until he stepped into the warm hall, and once again noticed her once again looking at him strangely. Iruka did not like what that entailed. See, Kurenai had a knack for telling when anyone, Iruka included, was stressed. He always thought he became rather skilled at hiding his struggles, but then again this woman worked in criminal investigation. He could tell when she was picking him apart, which she was absolutely doing at the moment. Her gaze felt heavier than just a casual glance and Iruka was smarter than to falsely believe she hadn’t noticed the change in his demeanor. 

“Sorry, Kurenai san,” Iruka apologized.

She shook her head as they walked.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. Something in her voice made Iruka’s steps falter as they entered the classroom. Iruka was expecting her to sound concerned, maybe even a little annoyed, but he was _not_ expecting her to sound playful. 

Confused, Iruka looked over at her but found no explanation in the way she stepped began giving instructions to the class. Unsure, Iruka found it best to just completely ignore it in favor of preserving the remnants of his sanity for the day. He considered the possibility of stress making him hear things in Kurenai’s voice, and see things in her gaze that weren’t actually there. It didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility for someone who was certain their entire world was about to crumble beneath their feet.

The day continued and Iruka tried adamantly to remain focused as the kids all began writing short essays.  He hoped acting composed the rest of the day would reverse whatever Kurenai was beginning to suspect. Not only that, he was at work for crying out loud, preparing himself for his own future in his own classroom. If he couldn’t keep a cool head there, how was he ever going to fare in his own classroom when things went sour in his life? If his current behavior was anything to go by, the answer was horribly. For the rest of the class, he repeatedly had to ask students to repeat themselves when they asked him simple questions, had delayed reactions to being spoken to and he even at one point nearly tripped over a student’s backpack—though, in his defense it was _horribly_ placed.

Iruka was both grateful and mortified for the small stack of papers Kurenai gave him to grade. On one hand it was something to keep his mind occupied, but on the other, it definitely confirmed his earlier suspicions. Kurenai knew something was off. All Iruka could do was pinch his brows in distress after he turned away and began grading papers in the back of the class.

Not much later were the kids wrapping up their essays and turning them in, a few cut short by the sounding of the final bell.

Iruka sighed in relief. He wanted desperately to go home and sleep this nightmare away, if his mind would let him. He’d have to tell Anko he wouldn’t be showing up that night and hoped she too might be able to call out. Maybe she could pick him up and they could have a pity fest. He could use the distraction of Anko’s tactless candor. 

As Kurenai graded essays, Iruka went about his routine of organizing the classroom as casually and normally as possible. He hoped that maybe he could convey some normalcy through the benign actions of straightening desks, pushing in chairs, picking up trash and replacing stray materials. Maybe Kurenai would notice and decide nothing was wrong. But, maybe Iruka was just an idiot for hoping so.

“He likes men, you know.”

When Iruka nearly tripped and lost his footing again, this time he did not have an ill placed backpack to blame.

“Excuse me?!” Iruka all but wheezed once he caught his balance, hand finding purchase on a student’s desk. He looked at her with a bewildered expression. 

That was not at all what he was expecting.

Kurenai kept her eyes trained on the essays she was grading, however a small grin could just barely been seen tugging at her lips.

“I’m just saying. He’ll also be here every other day for the next three weeks.” she added, though she was clearly not “just saying”. Nobody just casually mentioned someone’s sexual orientation offhandedly—not to someone with the same sexual orientation. Not without a reason.

Then the addition to Kurenai’s comment registered and Iruka blanched.

“Three weeks?” he uttered to himself in disbelief, hoping he didn’t look as beat as he suddenly felt. Kurenai raised a finely plucked brow at him.

“Three weeks. To make his way through the other classes. It would be shorter, but he wasn’t willing to volunteer more than once per visit. You’d think he was scared of kids,” she explained, sounding amused. Maybe Iruka would have found it amusing as well, the thought of a crime weathered detective being afraid of small, innocent children. However, he was too busy wondering when exactly in the next three weeks he’d be handed a pink slip.

“You kept staring at him,” Kurenai said as she peered down at the papers, though she wasn’t marking them. “You seemed a little distracted when he first walked in. Even stayed out in the cold a bit longer to speak with him,” she said, and suddenly all her strange looks made sense, but not for the reasons Iruka feared.

She wasn’t staring at Iruka because she suspected he was stressed, or hiding something—or perhaps it was precisely that, only what she thought he was hiding was not actually what he was hiding. Iruka couldn’t decide if this was better or worse.  

Kurenai thought Iruka was _interested_ in Kakashi.

Iruka immediately opened his mouth to protest before he thought better of it. What exactly could he say? How was he supposed to explain his mindless ogling at Kakashi and his overall trepidation around the man? Without any insight, it looked exactly how Kurenai was interpreting it.

Iruka held back a frustrated groan, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth in agitation.

“Kurenai san,” Iruka began with a sigh, “I’m not—Kakashi san is…”

“Tall, mysterious and handsome?” Iruka tensed and opened his mouth to pretest when Kurenai realised an enquiring brow at him. He chewed at his lower lip as those were all words he’d reluctantly use to describe the man.

“And--very standoffish. I don’t exactly have the time to decode people.” He crossed his arms in a defensive habit. “I mean, he seems... _interesting_ enough, but....” Iruka paused, unsure how to proceed with his explanation. If Kurenai knew it wasn’t a crush, she’d no doubt suspect something else and Iruka was extremely opposed to her wondering what it might be. While she wasn’t one for prying or gossip, she was at some point in criminal investigation. Iruka had no interest in testing how well she could dissect a person, or a situation. He’d seen her do it plenty with her students.

Maybe, Iruka thought mournfully as a new problem presented itself, it was for the best that Kurenai thought he had a thing for their volunteer.

“You’re right though,” she said with a soft sigh. Iruka looked up, surprised. “I’m mostly teasing, but well. He is a bit cryptic and extremely standoffish at times. I suppose that’s why I’m surprised he seemed so distracted by you."

Iruka, furrowed his brows. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked. Kurenai paused and looked to him, eyes thoughtful.

 “He kept staring at you,” she explained. “He was subtle about it, granted, but I could tell. It isn’t often that he’s like that—intrigued by someone.” 

Iruka refrained from wincing, feeling bad for not halting Kurenai down her route of false perceptions. Of course, _he_ knew why Kakashi was "distracted" by him. He felt  guilty, keeping that information to himself when Kurenai seemed so well-meaning. Though, Iruka had to wonder on a off-not why  everyone seemed so intent on seeing him in a relationship.

 “I’ll see you tomorrow, Iruka sensei,” Kurenai said, her green pen marking the papers on her desk. Iruka was grateful for the dismissal, unsure what else to say in the moment and afraid of what he might.

He bid Kurenai farewell. When he exited the building, he hissed as the cold air assaulted his body. He knew it always grew colder come evening in the beginning of winter. Even still, he always grabbed a light sweater, which was dumb considering his main form of transportation was walking outdoors. His logic was that he hated lugging around large coats and jackets with him once he made it indoors. Yet, he always regretted it at night when he was shivering at the bus stop.

The bus was a little warmer, though not as much as he’d have liked. He sighed and tilted his forehead against the cool glass of the bus window. His breath created a fog against the surface of the glass and he shamelessly tucked his arms into the sleeves of his sweater. He savored his temporary reprieve from the cold, and lamented the thought of walking home from the next stop. His apartment was probably freezing seeing as Iruka never left the heat on. In that moment, he thought it must be nice to have a car. He wondered as he gazed out the window unthinkingly—Kakashi probably had a car. No, he _definitely_ had a car. Probably a really fancy one with near-illegally tinted windows and warm AC and--

Iruka scowled as he realized where his thoughts had strayed. He threw his head back against his seat and slumped down, petulantly crossing his arms beneath his sweater. If people looked at him funny as he buried his face in his hands through the neck hole of his sweater, Iruka really couldn't blame them.

#

The following evening after classes found Iruka falling face-first into Anko’s sofa as he wailed into its worn fluffy confines. Anko gave him a judgy,  albeit wary look as she tossed her car keys onto her coffee table. She owned a cheap little car. It was bought used, and to this day Iruka wonders what sane driving instructor permitted her to be a safe driver. Then another part of him rationalized that she did fail three times and thought it wasn’t entirely unlikely that they either felt bad for her, or were just tired of seeing her at the DMV. Iruka's belief leaned toward the latter.

“What’s got you all melodramatic?” she asked as she sat down in the space beside Iruka’s head, the cushions giving under her weight.

“My life is over, Anko,” he murmured, the noise muffled into the cushions.

“Jeez, Iruka,” she huffed, sounding both sympathetic and amused. “What the hell is getting at you so bad? Is it work related?”

Iruka rolled onto his back, his head resting against Anko’s thigh as he peered up at her. She seemed to understand the miserable look he gave her as “yes” and hummed sympathetically. “Are the gremlins finally driving you crazy? Are you finally realizing how insane it is that you actually want to willingly work with kids?” Iruka shook his head, to which Anko seemed a bit confused. “Well, if it’s not the kids then what—” she paused, tensing up as she seemed to realize something Iruka failed to. “Wait, Iruka,” she said urgently, leaning down to hover her face close to his. “Did something happen at the club? You know I’m willing to kick everyone and anyone’s ass, right? Did someone mess with you?” she demanded, suddenly very defensive.

“No, no, nothing like that, Anko,” Iruka reassured, quickly trying to backpedal her rage. She didn’t seem to quelled, her brows angled in concern and shoulders drawn in a tense line as she hovered her top half over him. “Not exactly.” Iruka sighed and closed his eyes, pushing Anko’s face away so he could sit up. He folded his legs up to his chest, crossing his arms over his knees. Anko scooted closer until their hips met, looking over at him warily. “It’s really complicated,” he said, running his fingers through his loose hair. He took it out of his ponytail during the car ride in an attempt to alleviate the headache he could feel coming on. It didn't  help much.

“Well,” she shrugged, the rare gentle side of her coming out as she nudged Iruka’s shoulder with her own. “We’ve got time for you to walk me through it.” She smiled reassuringly and Iruka somehow found the will to smile back.

He explained everything to her from the beginning. She already knew about that night at the club, when he accidentally handcuffed Kakashi without the key in his pocket. She laughed at him, of course, in a way that made him feel a little better at the time because, eventually, they always found themselves laughing at the same things. He told her about how Kakashi was the one intern they had all year at Konoha Middle School, and how he recognized Iruka. He told her about how Kurenai thought he had a thing for Kakashi and—

“Hold on, Iruka, do you  _ not _ have a thing for him?” Anko asked, interrupting Iruka as she eagerly leaned forward on her palms. Iruka scrunched his face at her, brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Anko, he could  _ end my career _ ,” Iruka deadpanned. Anko rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, end it handsomely. I mean, this was the same man you had to lead backstage. The guy you were all gushing over—”

“I was definitely  _ panicking. _ Not gushing,” Iruka protested immediately.

“Well, you were definitely blushing when you told me about your little fiasco with him,” she reminded as she leaned in to leer at Iruka, smirking. “Were all abashed because you put this handsome stranger in an awkward position, had to promiscuously lead him backstage,” she cooed as she invaded Iruka’s space. Iruka leaned back and scowled as he shoved her away.

“Which is around the time you whistled at us and made things that much more awkward for me. Thanks for that,” Iruka complained. To that, Anko let out a pleased chuckle. “Anko,” Iruka huffed, pressing his back against the sofa.. “I’m being serious! I—” he groaned, brows drawing together in concern. His chest tightened and suddenly he wasn't sure if he could keep talking.

Beside him, Anko grew silent and Iruka could feel her looking at him. Pointedly, Iruka did not look back at her. “I’m afraid," he said, his voice small. "I’ve been working so hard and what if this one thing ruins everything? I mean, nobody cares about  _ why _ I have this second job, but they won’t care. They’re just going to think I’m unfit to be a teacher and—” Iruka clenched his jaw, trying to bite back whatever emotions he had brewing inside him since yesterday. Anger, fear, apprehension—all of it was reaching its boiling point there on Anko’s couch and Iruka wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep a lid on it.

“Iruka?” Anko called, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. Her arm came to wrap around his shoulders and Iruka finally closed his eyes and let his head fall to her shoulder.

“What if he tells Kurenai? And then she tells someone else and it’ll just travel through the grapevine and my teaching career is over.” Iruka’s eyes stayed clenched, trying to fight off the stress that was now pushing its way to the waterline of his eyes. Anko shifted beside him, resting her cheek against the top of his head.

“Honestly Iruka, and I’m not just saying this to make you feel better, but I think it’ll be fine.” Iruka could feel her jaw move against his head as she spoke, combing a hand soothingly through his brown hair. Iruka rolled his head to look at her, gaze disbelieving. Anko frowned at him and flicked his nose. “Stop that, I’m serious!” she complained. “I mean, from what I’ve heard, Kureani isn’t someone who would go around spreading something like that. Not to mention they both have experience in  _ crime investigation _ , Iruka. They probably know firsthand the kind of shit dancers and sex workers have to put up with. This Kakashi guy definitely has more important things on their mind than sabotaging an intern.”

Iruka groaned. “Then he’ll blackmail me,” Iruka lamented and curled further in on himself.

“Okay, no—Iruka!,” Anko said insistently, settling her hands on Iruka’s shoulder and persistently tried to make eye contact. Iruka scowled back, though he was sure it wasn’t very threatening behind the tears lining his bottom lashes. “Listen to yourself, you’re jumping the gun! Just—calm down alright? You don’t know this guy, okay? Don’t assume he’s going to try to ruin your life. Just do what you’re always telling me to do and be an adult.” 

Iruka blinked in astonishment, those words sounding very wrong coming out of his unruly friend’s mouth, no less directed at  _ him _ . “And confront him.” She shrugged, like it was that easy and…

Iruka stared at her, watery gaze flicking between both of her earnest eyes. Maybe—as disturbing a thought it were—Anko was right. He needed to just confront Kakashi. Like an adult.

Gods, he really was fucked if Anko was giving him sound advice.

“Okay,” Iruka sighed. “Fine, you’re right. Mostly. I’m still concerned but I guess you’ve got a point.” Iruka rubbed at his eyes, massaging away tears that hadn’t yet gotten the chance to shed themselves.

“You guess?” She laughed as she pulled her phone from her back pocket. “I’m ordering pizza. You definitely need greasy comfort food right now.”

Iruka frowned from where his head was still against Anko’s shoulder. “But my greasy comfort food is ramen.” Anko side eyed him, unmoved before she relented and rolled her eyes with a groan.

“Ugh, whatever. You’re lucky I love you,” she said as she stood up, dialing the local ramen delivery restaurant that she no doubt had memorized. Iruka smiled triumphantly.

“Considering the amount of abuse and disrespect I endure because of it, I think that’s debatable." Anko squawked in offense, unable to respond however as the other end picked up and she began reciting their usual orders. She did however kindly flip Iruka off.

When the food arrived, they watched cheesy horror flicks on Anko’s couch.  Anko lugged out a mass of pillows and blankets for Iruka to sleep with overnight. As they watched, it never failed to amuse Iruka, how heavily bad horror films relied on half-naked women to make up for the horrible plot and execution. He did hope those women found their way into roles that respected them. To be clear, there was no shame in being half naked on TV so much as being used as eye candy to rope in lizard-minded teenage boys. Ultimately, power to them though; straight men would do anything to see a beautiful half naked woman, including purchase an overpriced and poorly executed horror film.

As they ate, Iruka found himself slowly relaxing as the tense muscles of his body began to unwind. He still had his trepidations, but felt less mentally distressed about it now. It was funny how Anko and her crass self always managed to soothe his nerves. Like, if she could find the humor in it, it must not be a lost cause because eventually, they always found themselves laughing about the same things. 

“So, one question,” Anko said suddenly. Iruka hummed curiously, but one look at the impish expression on her face quickly stomped out any curiosity. Her grin only seemed to grow at his concern. “Does he have a car though?”

Not a moment later was Iruka’s foot making impact with Anko’s side, shoving her off the couch. Anko barked in surprise, but cackled as she tumbled to the floor.

Despite his best efforts to be mad, Iruka found himself smiling as well.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I don't have a beta reader so I have to read over everything myself and typically I need a good week of not reading my own stuff to cleanse my literary palate before trying to proof read it. :')  
> Speaking of which, if you find any errors, feel free to drop corrections in the comments!
> 
> In addition, thank you all for the kudos and comments! It's a lot more fun to write when other people are just as hyped about the progression of the story as I am. I really love reading everyone's reactions in the comments!
> 
> Anyway, I felt a little bad posting just this because I wanted to give you all more Kakairu interaction, but the chapters seemed to flow best this way. 
> 
> On that note, make sure to follow me on [TUMBLR](https://litaluna.tumblr.com/) for updates on how the story is going and feel free to send me asks!  
> -_-_-_-_-  
> Oh! I never said how long this series was going to be, but as of now I'm estimating about 6 or 8 chapters?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you going to blackmail me?” Iruka found himself unceremoniously blurting and just barely resisted clamping a hand over his mouth, as if it might somehow stall his words before they could reach Kakashi’s ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait but here's a 10k chapter!!?!
> 
> ***Also and most importantly I did tweak the other two chapters a bit. All you really need to know is that Kakashi is wearing a sick mask in public now--though he was NOT wearing it in the first chapter (at the club). I know, it's a bit late to be changing things up, but it felt too far from his character to just have him not cover his face. (Even though I was trying to reason with myself that this is a more realistic alternate universe, it JUST KEPT BUgging me)  
> Only other change I made was putting some emphasis on Iruka's scar because initially I was like "oh they'll ASSUME he has a scar" but then I was like??? I should just clarify its existence in my story???
> 
> So that's that, again sorry for the wait and thank you everyone who has left comments and sent me motivational asks on tumblr!! <3

Never in his life had Iruka been so grateful to be grading papers. 187 papers, to be exact. Did he genuinely enjoy it? Absolutely not. Was it a good distraction? Hell yes. Was he already just about finished? Tragically.

There were only three papers left to grade and Iruka sighed. He never thought he’d feel so dismayed about that. The entire class period was spent like that, in the quiet space of Kurenai’s office. Kurenai told him he didn’t  _ have _ to grade all the papers, the worried tone in her voice even insinuating that he really  _ shouldn’t _ , but he desperately needed to keep busy. If he weren’t, he feared he might tumble back into frantically wondering whether or not half the staff knew he was a part time stripper and—not to go off on a completely irrelevant note—but he hardly qualified as a stripper. The club he danced at didn’t even allow dancers to be completely naked. More accurately, they just danced in very provocative clothing—or lack thereof. But it didn’t matter what term Iruka preferred because ultimately, under the guise of society, it was all the same thing. Dancer was interchangeable with stripper, which was interchangeable with a number of unsavory words people would never associate with a teacher.

Forcefully, Iruka slapped his pen down on the desk.  It was futile, no matter how slowly he tried to grade these last few papers, it wouldn’t matter. His mind was already spiraling down this tangent. He might as well accept it and finish his papers so he could give them to Kurenai. On that note, all this did shed some light on one aspect of Iruka’s life. He now knew that life complications wouldn’t impair his ability to work because apparently he uses work as a coping mechanism. Though, looking back, that's not actually much of a surprise. 

Tucking the pen he used to grade into his ponytail, Iruka stood up. He gathered the papers in his hands, wondering why he hadn’t thought to grab a folder for them as he haphazardly secured them in his hands. Hopefully Kurenai had something more for him to do, although be graded right into their lunch break, which meant Kurenai was likely not even on campus. Without any sort of work to keep his mind occupied, the ever-present anxiety teetering on the edge of his consciousness made itself known, reminded him of how much he  _ needed _ to see Kakashi again.

Really, Iruka did not  _ want _ to see the man, but the dilemma was that he very much  _ needed _ to see Kakashi. Kakashi knew a vital detail that could very easily destroy Iruka’s career, meanwhile, Iruka knew close to nothing about Kakashi, including what he intended to do with that information.

Iruka shook his head as if to rid of his thoughts and walked faster. He needed something else to do. Maybe he’d leave campus for a little while, grab lunch before his break was over, maybe walk over the café down the street. But then, he really shouldn’t be spending too much money, being that he hadn’t danced at all these past few nights and it was starting to show in his wallet. It was all the more reason he  _ should  _ go find Kakashi to confront the man about his plaguing concerns instead of walking down the street to get coffee... _ but _ he was very tired after grading all those papers and it was his lunch break after all. He just needed to drop these papers off in the classroom and—

Iruka stumbled, finding himself rounding the corner directly into some poor stranger. The recently graded papers slipped from his hands and fluttered unceremoniously to the tile.

“Crap--I’m so sorry!” Iruka said instinctively, hands scrambling in an attempt to save some of the papers. He took a step back and looked up and to his bewilderment, found himself facing the one person he both desperately needed to see and absolutely  _ was not ready  _ to see. “Kakashi san,” Iruka said startled, his eyes anxiously darting between the man’s.

“Sensei,” Kakashi easily greeted, unperturbed as his eyes trailed down to the papers currently scattered about their feet. Iruka tensed when much to his horror, Kakashi was dropping to one knee to begin gathering papers.

“You don’t have to,” Iruka said hurriedly as he too knelt down, though the brow Kakashi raised at him had him biting his tongue and quietly sighing to himself. He began collecting the sheets as well, wondering if every encounter with Kakashi was doomed to be this sporadic and embarrassing. Kakashi must think him a human hurricane. 

When Iruka moved to reach for a paper further away, He caught sight of one furry limb in his peripheral. Iruka followed it up to see Shiba obediently sitting beside Kakashi’s crouched figured, his tail giving a brief wag at the attention.

“Maa, Shiba quit begging for attention. You’re supposed to be acting professional right now,” Kakashi reprimanded the animal, though his tone was light. Shiba’s ears perked as he turned to his master, tail abruptly halting. They looked to be having a stare off, one that Kakashi seemed to lose when he sighed and raised a hand to scratch between the dogs ears. “I’ve let too many people pet him with the vest on,” he sighed as he stood up. Iruka followed the motion. “Now he thinks everyone is allowed to pet him on duty,” he said, handing Iruka the stack of papers he collected. Iruka accepted them, sheepishly looking away.

“Thank you,” he said, not quite finding himself able to make eye contact.

“It’s no hassle, Sensei. I’m done for the day so I’m in no rush to be anywhere.”

“You already volunteered?” Iruka asked, trying not to sound disappointed, or maybe relieved. That meant Kakashi would be leaving campus soon, which meant Iruka wouldn’t be confronting him today—which to be honest, didn’t sound horrible. On the other hand, Iruka did not know how much longer he could deal with this anxiety. 

“I have. But me and Shiba were about to go take a much needed break in the courtyard before we report back to the station,” he said, looking down at the dog.

“Oh.” Iruka’s eyes trailed away in thought. He’d still be on campus then.

A very loud part of Iruka’s mind insisted he would survive without confronting Kakashi. After all, as far as Iruka knew, Kakashi hadn’t said anything and really, all Iruka had to do was wait for these three weeks to be over and then he’d never see Kakashi again. It was only three weeks, which flew by like minutes when Iruka had exams coming up. Yet Iruka could have sworn he’d aged years in the past two days. He didn’t want to think about spending the next three weeks like this. He kept wondering when a herd of livid soccer moms would come marching onto campus with torches and pitchforks, demanding retribution against Iruka for defiling their children’s innocence.

“Something on your mind, Sensei?” Kakashi asked, effectively snapping Iruka from his thoughts.

 “Actually, yes. I’m about to go on break myself.  Maybe I’ll...see you in the courtyard?” Iruka said before his cowardice could get the better of him. He looked up at Kakashi with an enquiring eyes, hoping Kakashi would pick up on the desperation beneath his composure. 

There was a pause in which Kakashi stared at him, making Iruka feel as though his thoughts were hanging blatantly over his head. He swallowed but gathered himself, taking a breath and stared back unflinchingly.

“Maybe you will,” Kakashi agreed after a moment. Iruka didn’t know it was possible to feel such intense relief and anxiety at the same time. “Later then, Sensei,” the man said as he walked past Iruka. Iruka stood in place as he processed what just transpired. He blinked, and after reassuring himself that  _ yes _ , he was going to confront Kakashi, and  _ no _ he was not going to chicken out, Iruka forced his legs to move.

Kurenai’s classroom was empty as Iruka plopped the graded papers down on her desk. He swiftly moved through the halls, afraid that if he stopped for second he would retreat altogether. He didn’t even consider the weather until he was pushing open the doors to the courtyard and immediately cold air assaulted his body through his thin sweater. Iruka scowled. Kakashi  _ had _ to sit outside.

Begrudgingly, Iruka ventured deeper into the courtyard, wrapping his arms around himself in a futile attempt to stay warm as he scanned the premises. Turned out, Kakashi wasn’t the only one who decided to suffer out in the cold. Iruka didn’t understand why, when there were plenty of seating arrangements inside the building, where it was  _ warm. _ Perhaps Iruka was just biased because he  _ had  _ to be outside more often than others, given his (lack of a) car situation. 

It wasn’t hard to spot Kakashi. Not only was he situated far from the rest of the small gathering of teachers outside, but he was a man with silver, gravity-defying hair and one admittedly very adorable dog.

Kakashi sat at a round granite bench table, eyes fixed on his phone as Shiba lounged contentedly by his feet.

For a moment, Iruka hesitated. Was this really a good idea? Iruka wasn’t even sure what to say. How does someone politely ask the person balancing their future in their palms to keep their mouth shut? Then again, Iruka likely wouldn’t know the answer to that even if he decided to put this off for another day (or three weeks). He probably won’t ever feel ready to confront Kakashi, and that simple revelation had Iruka’s feet moving. He needed to get this over with before he did something stupid like cut his hair and bleach it. The very thought was enough to reach back and run a hand through his ponytail--he took his hair  _ very _ seriously. 

As Iruka approached, Shiba perked up from where he was lying, head raising and ears standing upright like little satellite dishes. 

“Sensei,” Kakashi said without looking up from his phone. Iruka took a breath as he sat in the space across from Kakashi, settling his arms over the granite table. On the other end of the table, Kakashi continued to stare at his phone. It probably would have come off as annoying if Iruka wasn’t grateful for the fact that Kakashi’s attention wasn’t on him yet. 

_ God _ , what was he even doing? He willed himself to find the right words and the frayed end of his left sleeve fell victim to this as he pinched it between his two fingers, twisting and pulling as he wracked his brain for something to say. Every second that ticked by felt to chip away his patience, eroding any composure he had left and then suddenly Iruka’s lips were moving on their own volition.

“Are you going to blackmail me?” Iruka found himself unceremoniously blurting and just barely resisted clamping a hand over his mouth, as if it might somehow stall his words before they could reach Kakashi’s ears. Across from him, both of Kakashi’s brows shot up, his phone now leaning limp in his palm.

“Blackmail you?” Kakashi repeated, “What for?”

Iruka narrowed his eyes, quickly glancing around to ensure nobody was listening. Luckily the other people braving against the cold weather were situated a good distance from them. Though, Iruka couldn’t help but notice the occasional glances being casted their way and wondered if Kakashi had already begun to make a not-so-positive name for himself. Given Iruka’s brief experiences with the man, that did not seem out of the realm of possibility..

“You know what for,” Iruka hissed quietly.

“Do you have something worth blackmailing for?” Kakashi asked far too casually as he leaned forward, chin settling in his palm. It were as if Iruka were telling him a joke.

“I—" Iruka hesitated, not much enjoying the sudden laser like focus Kakashi had on him. Kakashi raised an inquiring brow, then after a moment slouched back with a sigh. 

“I’m not going to blackmail you, Sensei,” he said, and oddly enough sounded disappointed. “ I’m a little surprised you’d think such a thing.”

Iruka scowled. “Well, you didn’t exactly leave me with a lot of closure when you just took off like that.” Iruka said, not intending for his words to sound as sharp as they did but found he didn’t much regret it.  

 “I did say  _ a little _ .” Kakashi conceded with a shrug.

 “Okay,” he let out  a long sigh, eyes pinched shut. “I need you to stop being so cryptic.”

Kakashi quirked a brow at him. “What do you mean?”

Iruka clenched his jaw, one brow twitching in irritation. “Listen, I just need to hear that you aren’t going to tell anyone about—,” Iruka’s words faltered, “About my second my job, okay? I just need to know that you aren’t going to say anything,” Iruka explained, not looking up from his fingers where they rested on the table. They tingled with the urge to fidget.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, Sensei,” Kakashi finally said, sounding… disappointed? Iruka blinked and looked up. 

“And you haven’t told anyone yet? At all?” Iruka asked, his brows lowered skeptically.

Kakashi boredly shook his head. “Nobody.”

Iruka looked at Kakashi whose attention was once again on his phone. Iruka stared at him, brows furrowed in disbelief and before he could think better of it, he blurted, “Why not?”

Kakashi look up. “Sorry, Sensei?” 

“I mean—why not tell anyone? Or hold it over my head?” Iruka demanded, not quite able to accept the simplicity of the resolution.

When Iruka pictured someone from work finding out he was a dancer, his imagination tortured him with all sorts of theories. Particularly, he imagined making the news under  _ Middle School Fires Intern by Day, Stripper by Night _ . His picture would be right below it and a brief autobiography would detail his rebellious years as a child and he’d never be able to get a stable job again because whenever he’d show for a job interview, the interviewer would say, _ “Hey! Weren’t you that stripper who wanted to be a middle school teacher?”  _ and then they’d laugh in his face before rejecting him.

“Well, why would I?” Kakashi said and the sensation of his patience snapping was almost physical.

“Because it’s,” Iruka let out a warbled, restrained groan. “It’s absurd! It’s controversial and scandalous and probably hilarious to half the staff and—I don’t know—because I’m a  _ part time stripper _ trying to become a  _ full time teacher! _ ” Iruka fumed, his voice a strangled whisper.

Kakashi seemed taken aback, his eyes widening for the briefest moment in what Iruka thought could be genuine alarm. While Iruka was a little ashamed at his own outburst, he considered it a victory to crack this man’s ever-present stoicism. It lasted but a second before Kakashi regained his composure.

“Well, sensei. To be frank, I don’t care. It’s not my business or anyone’s what you decide to dress up as every few nights.” Iruka scowled and squared his shoulders, not much liking the condescending tone.

“Why approach me at all then? You could have just pretended not to know me.”  _ And spared me the mental distress _ , Iruka did not say.

“Well, that would have been rude, don’t you think?”

Iruka stared blankly at the man,  mentally recalling all the stress he experienced the past couple days. Kakashi sighed. “Alright. Maybe that was a mistake. I suppose I was...bored.”

“So you decided that it would be what? Entertaining?” Iruka grimaced. 

Kakashi made a disgruntled noise and for the first time, seemed genuinely abashed, bringing a hand up to scratch sheepishly at his neck. “I have been told I need to work on my social skills." 

  Iruka snorted, and a contemplative silence fell over them. Sheepishly, Iruka looked up, brows furrowed. “You really aren’t going to tell anyone?”

Kakashi shook his head. “I don’t know if you know this, Sensei, but crime work comes with some gritty territory. Your surreptitious little side job isn’t something I’d particularly consider newsworthy and even if it were, we do tend to have a tight lip in the service.” Iruka blinked, taken aback.

“You know, had anyone else said that I think I’d be relieved but somehow I’m feeling a little insulted right now,” Iruka deadpanned.

“Would you believe that's not the first time I've heard a similar phrase?” Kakashi matter-of-factly mentioned.

“Absolutely,” Iruka said without a second’s delay. The only thing keeping him from ducking shamefully at his own bluntness was the way Kakashi’s brows shot up in amusement.

Suddenly, Shiba was jolting upright, his ears perking as a pair of students with playfully scurried by. All the while, Iruka couldn’t help but notice the way Kakashi tensed, reflecting Shiba’s own vigilant posture as they both eyed the two boys. However, unlike Shiba, who seemed hopeful the boys might wander over and give him a scratch behind the ears, Kakashi looked as if the two boys were the very harbingers of hell.

“You,” Iruka began to say, watching as one of the boys smacked the back of the other’s head and promptly took off. Iruka smirked. “Don’t like kids much, do you?” Iruka asked. Kakashi focused intently on the boys as the stricken one attempted to chase the other, no doubt in pursuit of revenge.

“What gave me away?” Kakashi asked facetiously, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the two.

“Call it a hunch.” iruka shrugged. 

Kakashi huffed through his nose. “I’m not particularly fond of them,” he said, looking warily back toward the boys. The two were being scolded by a teacher, no doubt ordered to get back to their class.

“Why are you here then? Volunteering at a middle school?” 

Kakashi quirked a brow. “Are we getting to know each other, Sensei?” he asked, settling his chin in a palm.

Iruka shrugged. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours” he nonchalantly proposed, almost appalled at his own sudden boldness. "But you first. It's only fair since well," Iruka shrugged, "You already know a big part of  _ mine _ ."

Kakashi studied him for a moment, eyes seemingly calculating as they flickered over Iruka’s face. Iruka rather proudly managed to unflinchingly maintain eye contact.

“I suppose there’s no harm,” Kakashi agreed and settled his phone face down. Iruka straightened, surprised at how easily Kakashi complied. He tried not to look too eager and began boredly fidgeting the loose strings of his sleeve once more, peeking over at Kakashi as he waited for the man to start. “It isn’t all that interesting, really. My superior decided I needed a break from work--something about becoming too associated with the gritty wiles of criminal investigation—and recommended I volunteer.”

Iruka raised a brow. “And your superior thought you’d enjoy volunteering at a middle school?” Iruka asked, trying to hide his amusement.

“Oh no,” Kakashi disagreed. “I’m sure he knew exactly how much I’d hate it. Which is precisely why he thought it would be good for me.” Iruka furrowed his brows, not quite following.

“That…hardly makes sense.”

“You’re telling me,” Kakashi sighed, looking at the two boys whose heads were now ducked shamefully. “Definitely not fond,” he murmured. Iruka looked to the boys as they retreated into the sixth grade building, one smacking the other’s arm when nobody was looking. Iruka smiled.

“I am,” he said, almost grievingly—as if he too were aware of how absurd it was to actually enjoy being around children.

“How very brave of you, Sensei,” Kakashi far too seriously said, earning a light chuckle from Iruka.

“They’re just kids, Kakashi san.” 

“Of course. Just kids, who are extremely impressionable, emotionally fragile and not to mention mental minefields—” Kakashi began listing and then Iruka couldn’t help but realize something.

“You  _ are _ afraid of them,” Iruka mused out loud, thinking back to when Kurenai had first made the suggestion. He just wasn’t afraid for the reasons Iruka would have suspected; he was afraid of hurting them. 

Kakashi’s head jerked toward Iruka, his eyes showing the most emotion Iruka had seen yet—startled, aghast, surprised. Iruka immediately wished he could retract the words, snatch them from the air and shove them back into his mouth. Kakashi was a man no doubt hardened by a world of crime. He deliberately put himself in the path of danger, had no doubt seen unfathomable atrocities, and yet, he was afraid of tiny, untainted, harmless children.

“I—” Iruka began to say, trying to find a way to either apologize or smooth over what he just said. Anything to make Kakashi stop gawking at him with shocked, wide eyes.

“Iruka Sensei, Kakashi,” Iruka suddenly heard and turned swiftly to see Kurenai standing there. 

“Kurenai san,” Iruka greeted, relieved to have someone else take the focus off him. She looked at Iruka, then trailed her eyes back over to Kakashi. 

“I’m surprised to see you outside, Iruka. Usually you avoid it unless it’s a bit warmer,” she pointed out. The comment was so offhand, Iruka furrowed his brows trying to understand why she made it. Then he understood and he barely resisted the urge to outwardly groan. Kurenai knew Iruka generally tended to avoid the outdoor weather, particularly in the winter. He made it known and yet there he was, sitting outside in the cold…with  _ Kakashi _ . It looked every bit like he was going out of his way to be there and she seemed to be making that very clear to both him and Kakashi. 

Just as he found himself stumbling out of one debacle, he was landing face first into another. But then, if Kurenai thought Iruka had a crush on Kakashi--well frankly that was  _ frustrating _ , but Iruka would take it over his previous issue.

“Kakashi,” she said shortly after, looking over to the man as she approached the table. “You’re still here. Shouldn’t you be on your way back to the station?” Kakashi sighed and nodded, muttering out an explanation that escaped Iruka’s attention as he felt his phone hum in his back pocket. He shifted to retrieve it. 

At the caller ID, Iruka furrowed his brows. The number on his phone screen looked eerily familiar, though he couldn’t quite place why.

 “Hello?” he said, holding the phone up to his ear.

“Hi, this is the Konoha Police department, am I speaking with Umino Iruka?” the voice on the other end asked. Iruka furrowed his brows.

The police department? Why would they be calling him?

Iruka nodded unthinkingly before hurriedly verifying, “Yes, this is.”

“Good, good,” the woman said. Her voice seemed light enough, but Iruka knew that was part of the job; to maintain composure no matter how dire the situation. He may not have worked in the police force, but he spent enough time in the police station (even before he started working there) to know how things operated.

“And are you the guardian of Naruto Uzumaki?” Iruka’s heart plummeted.

“Is he okay?” Iruka asked urgently before swiftly clarifying, “I’m his brother. A legal adult.” Iruka was suddenly standing, holding the phone against his ear with both hands now. He faced away from both Kurenai and Kakashi, painfully aware of how their conversation died.

On the other end, the woman seemed satisfied with his response and carried on, explaining to Iruka the purpose of the call. Iruka’s form increasingly tensed. The blood felt to be steadily draining from his body, replaced with a farrago of anxiety, frustration and confusion.

When the call ended and Iruka turned around, his onlookers (Kakashi and Kurenai) did a poor job of pretending they were never listening, both swiftly looking away from Iruka. It would have been funny, if Iruka didn’t currently feel like his heart was in his throat.

“Naruto is at the police station,” Iruka said to Kurenai. Her eyes widened in concern and she tensed where she sat beside Kakashi. “He’s fine!” Iruka hurriedly added and watched as Kurenai’s frame relaxed. “ He just,” Iruka chewed at the inside of his cheek thinkingly, eyes downcast. “He got into some trouble,” he explained vaguely before pinching his brows and looking up. “Kurenai san, I know I’m supposed to stay a few more hours—”

“Go on,” Kurenai gently said. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve been more than helpful today,” she reassured. Iruka nodded, unsure what to say.

“Do you know when the next bus is going to arrive?” she asked. Iruka shook his head.

“No. Soon, hopefully—”

“I’ll take you,” Kakashi suddenly offered. Iruka tensed, surprised by the offer.

“You don’t have to,” Iruka protested.

“Maa, don’t worry about it.” Kakashi said as he stood up. “I’m supposed to be headed there anyway.”

Iruka furrowed his brows but nodded.

“Good luck, Iruka Kun. I’ll see you next time,” Kurenai said as she stood, eyes sympathetic.

Iruka nodded and couldn’t help but notice how Kurenai’s eyes lingered on him a moment longer. To a trained eye, Iruka wondered how worried he must appear.

Iruka followed Kakashi to the parking lot. Neither of them spoke, which Iruka was grateful for. Words felt a little beyond him at the moment.

Kakashi’s car was, unsurprisingly, nice. But then, any car probably seemed nice to someone who was doomed to walk the streets no matter if hell itself had taken to the streets. It was a sleek design, solid black with the windows darkly tinted. The interior was just as dark, the seats leather and the dashboard equipped with one of those backup cameras Anko was always wailing about wanting. Iruka didn’t know much about cars, but he had a feeling this particular car did not  _ just _ look nice.

The ride continued the pattern of silence as Kakashi drove. Iruka wondered if it might be rude to not say anything, seeing as how Kakashi was kind enough to drive him. He just couldn’t stop thinking about Naruto being in the police station. The boy had behavior issues certainly, but never anything to warrant a punishment beyond school detention or a grounding at his foster home.

“Usually it’s just to scare them, you know,” Kakashi suddenly said. “When they take kids to the station.”

Kakashi was focused on the road ahead when iruka blinked at him. Was Kakashi trying to comfort him? Iruka laughed weakly, looking down into his lap. 

“I know.”

“Oh?” said Kakashi. “You sound like you know that personally.”

“Well,” Iruka huffed, “I…may have spent my fair share of time at the station as a kid.” Iruka confessed, raising a hand to run along the dull scar atop his nose—a nervous subconscious habit.

“Pray tell, Sensei,” Kakashi said, teasing. Iruka knew he could have teased back, could have avoided the conversation, but it made him feel slightly better. He wound up at the station enough times to know the layout and yet he (1) lived and (2) became a  _ mostly _ successful adult—both of those individual factors he considered victories.

“Vandalism, pranks, skipping school, getting caught smoking cigarettes,” Iruka shrugged. “Rebellious orphan things.” It was only the following silence from Kakashi that made Iruka mull over his words. Usually, after Iruka told people about being orphaned, there were a lot of sorrys and condolences. Things that made Iruka want to sigh and roll his eyes, as if he hadn’t had the last twelve years to cope. The  _ “I would have never guessed” _ replies were the most annoying, however. Like people knew full well what the system did to the kids unfortunate enough to cycle through it, but chose to look down their coping as opposed to the system that turned them out. Like it’s supposed to be a victory that Iruka didn’t fall victim to it like so many kids do.

“So this  _ ‘Naruto’ _ ,” Kakashi inquired instead, surprising Iruka.

“Isn’t my biological brother, no” Iruka clarified. “He showed up at the home when I was thirteen. He’s…kind of the reason I stopped being so troublesome; to set a good example for him, but,” Iruka sighed as they pulled into the station. “Clearly it’s not working.”

Before the car could be put in park, Iruka removed his seatbelt and hopped out. He’d thank Kakakshi later.

It was a bit odd being back in the station. Iruka didn’t think he’d be back for a number of reasons. He sort of  _ hoped _ he’d never be back.

A woman greeted him from the desk, young with glasses and cropped black hair.

“I’m here for Naruto,” Iruka explained as he approached the desk, pulling his wallet from to have his ID ready. She nodded.

“Yes, he’s in the chief of police’s office,” she explained.

The chief of police. Sarutobi sama...Who also happened to be the closest thing to a father figure Iruka had since his parents died. A very strange, distant father. Iruka knew from experience that a trip to his office was either perfectly fine or a horrible indication.

“Hatake san,” the woman greeted, and Iruka suddenly remembered Kakashi was there. “Sarutobi sama is also expecting you,” she said with a smile. Iruka craned his neck to look at Kakashi, who seemed less than pleased at the reminder. “I suppose you won’t need my assistance finding the office?” she asked with a laugh.

“We’ll manage,” Kakashi seemed to mourn. Iruka’s brows furrowed at the implication of Kakashi’s exhaustion; one, that Kakashi had done this exchange enough times to be tired of it, and two, that he and Sarutobi must know each other…which was odd. Iruka certainly did not know all of the police personally by any stretch, but his time there allowed him to at least recognize most of them. That got Iruka thinking—Kakashi was an officer. Iruka had never seen Kakashi before  _ that _ night. Iruka without a doubt knew that if he ever crossed paths with Kakashi during his work at the station, he would remember. Namely because the man looked anything but ordinary, what with the hair, the well well-defined jawline, pointed features, dark mysterious eyes and perpetual stoicism that Iruka still found himself wanting to crack and—

Iruka’s eyes widened as he realized exactly where his train of thought was rather unwarrantedly headed. Swiftly, he turned back around and began walking toward the hall. He was absolutely not thinking about Kakashi’s well-endowed features. Not at all.

“You seem like you know where you’re going,” Kakashi observed from a couple steps behind Iruka. Iruka raised his brows and nodded.

“Yeah, well. Rebellious orphan and all. Sarutobi started to take notice of me after my first few incidences, so I wound up here a lot. Even when I wasn’t in trouble. ” Iruka shrugged. “He gave me a job filing papers here once I aged out of the system.”

“You’re well-acquainted then.”

Iruka laughed a bit anxiously, hand coming up to trace the slightly raised line of his scar. “A bit,” he murmured. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, how do you know Sarutobi sama?” Iruka asked, earning a quizzical look from Kakashi that had Iruka bristling. “I know he’s your  _ boss _ , okay? I mean—volunteering isn’t exactly newsworthy enough to bring to the Chief of Police. I just—was curious about how you two knew each. I never saw you around the station when I worked here,” Iruka amended.

Kakashi was silent for a moment. Iruka suspected he wasn’t going to answer once they rounded the corner and came into view of Sarutobi’s door. They were but a few feet away when Kakashi surprised Iruka with a response.

“He knew my father,” was all he said before they were standing outside of Sarutobi’s door. Iruka’s feet stopped.  _ ‘Knew’ _ . Kakashi’s father must have passed then. Before Iruka could fathom that further Sarutobi’s door was opening.

“Ah, Iruka,” Sarutobi greeted from the other side of the door. His eyes trailed over. “And Kakashi. How convenient,” he said, however Iruka’s eyes were settled behind the older man. Inside the office, Naruto sat in a chair before Sarutobi’s desk. He perked up upon seeing Iruka but one glance at Iruka’s less than pleased expression has the boy quickly looking away. Sarutobi must have realized the tension and put a hand on Kakashi’s shoulder. “Kakashi, let’s you and I go on a walk while we speak.”  _ Let’s leave them alone _ .

Iruka didn’t take his eyes off of Naruto, even as the two men began walking away.

The sound of the wooden door clicking shut in time with the snapping of Iruka’s patience. 

“What did you do?” Iruka demanded with crossed.

Naruto tensed in his seat, reminding Iruka of a bristling kitten.

“Nothing!” Naruto defended immediately, squaring his shoulders as his palms clenched the fabric of his khaki cargo shorts.

Iruka groaned into his hands, clenching his eyes closed in frustration. 

“You’re at the police station, Naruto! You were caught skipping school to fight other kids!” Iruka scolded.

“That isn’t what happened!” Naruto shouted as he tore his eyes away from Iruka to glare intensely at the floor. Iruka’s readiness to snap back died as the air swiftly escaped him. All the words Iruka planned to reprimand Naruto with were suddenly gone as the young boy sat curled in on himself, his fingers shaking where they were clenched in the fabric over his knees.

Naruto wasn’t a liar. He exaggerated and beat around the bush, sure. But lied? Never. Especially not to Iruka.

Slowly, Iruka approached Naruto and knelt down before him, raising his hand to rest it on the tense muscles of his forearm. Naruto didn’t meet his eyes, instead scowled and looked further away from Iruka,  though it did nothing to hide the tears beginning to line his narrowed blue eyes. Iruka recognized those tears-- _ felt  _ those tears himself as a child. Tears of frustration. Of anger.

There was a bandage on Naruto’s cheek, Iruka noticed, as well as a smaller one on the smooth curve of his jaw. Two large ones were placed over an elbow and knee as a few smaller ones scattered here and there on his legs. Iruka wondered if they were all from the fight. He hoped not.

“Hey,” Iruka said, gently squeezing Naruto’s arm. “Can you tell me what happened then?” he asked, voice soft. Naruto hesitantly raised his eyes to look at Iruka, his scowl still present but softer, more vulnerable.

“Nobody’s listening to me,” he said and swiped furiously at his eyes with the arm Iruka wasn’t holding.

“I’m listening,” Iruka insisted. “What happened?” Iruka’s thumb comfortingly ran back and forth over the boys arm.

“I was skipping. That part is true,” Naruto reluctantly admitted. “I just wanted to get away for a minute. Everyone there can be so mean. I was just tired of it so I snuck out during PE. I didn’t think anyone would follow me but stupid Hayato and his friends apparently had nothing better to do. I didn’t even go far and I was gonna go back, really! But then they started trying to fight and what was I supposed to do?!” Naruto fumed brows angrily furrowed, as his little fists clenched over his knees. “I wasn’t going to just let them hit me!”

Iruka frowned. “Is that where you got these?” he asked, raising his free hand to thumb at the bandage on Naruto’s cheek.

“Not all of them.” Naruto said and leaned slightly into the touch. “Just the ones on my face. The other ones are old.”

Iruka exhaled a relieved sigh. “What else happened?” he asked, sure the boy had been interrupted enough times already trying to tell his side of the story.

“And then we were all fighting, him and his two friends and I don’t remember most of it until the school deputy caught us.”

Iruka’s brows furrowed. “Where are the other boys who were fighting with you?”

Naruto shrugged. “Deputy was more concerned about getting me. He said he was going to get them later but I have a feeling he probably didn’t get a good look at their faces,” he said, glaring at the floor.

Iruka scowled, blood running hot in his veins. “And nobody listened to your side of the story?”

Naruto groaned and rolled his eyes. “Nobody ever listens to me, Iruka! Nobody except you and you haven’t even visited for two whole weeks!” Naruto snapped. Iruka’s breath hitched, surprised by the outburst. Even Naruto seemed taken aback, recoiling at the frustration in his own words as he shrunk back in his chair.

Iruka was silent. He hadn’t exactly been there for Naruto as of late, he knew. He loved spending time with Naruto, but it was difficult to find the time as of late. Usually he carved a day or two out of his schedule every week for Naruto. The past two weeks had just been...stressful. 

“I’m sorry, Naruto.” Iruka’s voice was soft as he spoke. “I’ve been busy, but why don’t you come over?” Naruto looked up, hopeful and unsure.

“You don’t have work to do?” he asked.

Iruka smiled shook his head. “Nothing I can’t work on tomorrow.” Naruto looked skeptical, brows drawing together. “I’ll order us ramen,” Iruka added and watched as Naruto’s face comically lit up. Iruka could have rolled his eyes if he weren’t so relieved to see the boy looking more like his usual beaming self. “We can watch that horrible ninja series you like,” Iruka milked purposefully with a grin, watching the boy’s face drop into a scowl.

“First of all you just don’t understand it because you’re old and second of all, you had me at ramen,” Naruto said. He hopped up from his chair and wasted no time bouncing over to the door.

“Don’t think you’re completely off the hook! You were still skipping—”

There was a sudden Naruto-pitched yelp, followed by a thump. Iruka swiftly turned around, startled to see Naruto fallen backwards onto the floor. On the other side of the  now open door stood Sarutobi, peering down at Naruto whose face was a cross between a scowl and pout.

“Leaving already?” Sarutobi asked with his hands crossed behind his back. Naruto clambered to his feet.

“Iruka’s taking me home and we’re going to eat ramen!” Naruto eagerly boisted to the older man and stuck out his tongue, to which Iruka cringed. Serotobi quirked a brow.

“Seems like an odd punishment.” He looked over Naruto’s head to focus on Iruka who sheepishly looked away.

“Naruto, go out to the waiting room,” Iruka said.Naruto looked to him and frowned, seeming to notice something was wrong and looked hesitantly between the two men. 

Iruka smiled at him. “I’ll be there in a bit,” he reassured. Naruto didn’t seem convinced, but hesitantly obeyed, stepping around Sarutobi. As he exited the office, he casted  one last curious glance at Iruka before rounding the corner out of sight. 

Serutobi shut the door behind him and sighed. “Iruka, you’re being too easy on him.”

“And I guess taking him to the police station for getting beat up by three other boys isn’t too harsh,” Iruka snapped back, crossing his arms. “He’s the only one in trouble.” Iruka glared at the older man, waiting for his justification. The man only sighed and walked behind his desk, Iruka’s narrowed eyes tracing the movement.

“He’s hardly in trouble, Iruka. Besides, if we involved the other boys, their parents would likely request harsher penalties. Feel free to try, but I doubt it will work in Naruto’s favor. Three against one won’t fare any better by word of mouth.”

Iruka’s brows furrowed, his tense form slacking. The old man had a point. “There’s a reason I contacted you and not the foster home. I doubt they’d know what to do with him, since yours didn’t know what to do with you. Otherwise I wouldn’t have caught you stealing Asuma’s cigarettes as often as I did.” Iruka winced and rubbed the back of his neck as Sarutobi chuckled. “That boy is a lot like you were, Iruka.”

Iruka laughed nervously. “Maybe a little too much.”

“Well,” Sarutobi said as he sat down. ”You turned out to be a respectable adult.”

Iruka’s eyes flickered away as he mentally recalled the last time he danced at the club and swallowed.  _ Respectable adult _ . Iruka wondered if Serutobi would think differently if he knew.

“Though, I still think he needs some kind of repercussion for skipping.” Iruka nodded.

“I know. I’ll talk to him, I just…” Iruka sighed and dropped his crossed arms to his sides. “I haven’t been there for him lately. Between class and my internship, I haven’t had the time. He acts out less when I see him regularly,” Iruka justified.

“I believe you, Iruka. I’m sure you know that child best and you’ll do what you see fit,” he said as he pulled out a stack of papers. “You and Naruto can leave whenever. He was never in any official trouble, but I wanted him here until you could get him.”

Iruka nodded and gave a slight bow. “Thank you, Sarutobi Sama.” Sarutobi waved a hand.

“Go on,” he dismissed. Iruka obeyed, walking toward the door.

As he stepped out, Sarutobi called, “Try not to spoil him too much.” Iruka grinned and the door shut.

“I’ll spoil him as much as I want,” he murmured to himself. 

When Iruka found Naruto, he was surprised to see Kakashi and Shiba with him, the dog vestless and on his back as Naruto happily pet his belly.

“Sensei,” Kakashi greeted as Iruka approached them, not looking up from Naruto and Shiba where they both settled on the floor.

“Iruka I want to be a detective!” Naruto loudly announced, jumping to his feet and turning to face him.

Iruka blinked down at the boy. “You said just last week you wanted to be an astronaut.”

“That was  _ two _ weeks ago and basically everything has changed since then. I have a haircut and new shoes. I’m basically a new man.” Iruka bit back a laugh.

“ _ Basically _ .” Iruka smirked. He raised his eyes to Kakashi where the man stood before both Shiba and Naruto. As if sensing, Kakashi raised his eyes to meet Iruka’s. His mouth opened in preparation to thank Kakashi for the ride, but instead of hearing his own voice, Naruto was suddenly gasping.

“Iruka!” Naruto said urgently. “Are we taking the bus again? Because if we are, I am  _ not _ sitting next to the Bus Hermit,” he declared, crossing his arms.

“Naruto,” Iruka sighed. “You don’t know him or what he does all day—”

“He rides the bus all day and smells like Doritos!  _ That’s _ what he does.”

Iruka opened his mouth to protest, ready to explain to Naruto that while that may in fact be what it seems like, neither of them knew and shouldn’t judge when Kakashi began speaking.

“Actually, I’m taking you home.” Both Iruka and Naruto’s heads whirled toward Kakashi, Naruto with narrowed, suspicious eyes and Iruka gawking.

“You?” They both said simultaneously. Kakashi nodded, eye-smiling at the two of them..

“You don’t have to do that,” Iruka insisted, feeling guilty.

“It’s no hassle. Sarutobi sama already indirectly ordered me to, so.” He shrugged, eye curving in an implicating smile.

Iruka, unsure, chewed at his bottom lip. Naruto on the other hand seemed to move on easily enough.

“Great! Let’s go, I want ramen like yesterday,” the boy said and grabbed Iruka’s hand to begin tugging him out the door. Iruka didn’t bother struggling, resigned to his fate. He did, however, pull out his phone to text Mr. and Mrs. Shiki, Naruto’s foster guardians, that he’d be staying over. They likely wouldn’t care. Most Foster guardians didn’t, but the Shikis were better than most. Not great, but better. Naruto at least had no holes in his clothes and was well groomed, so that was something.

As they followed Kakashi to his car, Naruto was under no shortage of things to talk about. Iruka normally listened the best he could, but found himself distracted. He felt guilty, having Kakashi drive him not only to the station, but now to his apartment. While he seemed unbothered by it all, Iruka was aware that acting was likely pivotal to his occupation. Not to mention he said Sarutobi told him to do it. Iruka sighed. He’d thank Kakashi as soon as they made it to the apartments.

“Hey, where’s Shiba?” Naruto asked as he climbed into the car.

Kakashi hummed as he settled in the driver’s seat.. “Hmm? Oh. I figured he’d be a little restless from today, so I’m having a colleague take him back home.”

Naruto frowned, but nodded. “I understand completely,” he said, looking so forlorn Iruka almost failed to bite back his laugh as he settled in the back seat beside the young boy. His amusement did not go unnoticed, the blonde scowling suspiciously at Iruka, to which Iruka pretended not to notice.

The ride was much less awkward than Iruka anticipated it might. Having Naruto there as a buffer certainly helped. Before a minute in was he bombarding Kakashi with questions about detective life. Iruka felt bad, even if it was a little amusing.

“How come you don’t seem as old as the other police officers? You do have grey hair though. Is it dyed or do you moisturize? Because Anko says that moisturizing prevents premature wrinkling.” Iruka could see Kakashi furrowing his brows through the rearview mirror, sending wary glances toward the rambunctious boy.

“Which of those questions exactly do you want me to answer?” .

Naruto scrunched his face. “What do you mean? I asked why you’re not super old. You can’t be much older than Iruka.”

Iruka furrowed his brows. “You told me just a bit ago that I  _ was _ old.”

Naruto rolled his eyes. “Well you are but you aren’t ancient like Deputy.” Iruka grimaced and made a displeased noise, but didn’t argue. Though, despite being marginally offended, Iruka too found himself curious. He knew Kakashi seemed remarkably young for an officer, a criminal  investigator no less. He didn’t quite know how ranking worked in the police force, but he had a feeling detective work wasn’t something they let just anyone do.

“Well, firstly, my hair is not dyed and I prefer to think of it as more silver as opposed to grey,”  _ bullshit _ , Iruka thought.  _ It has to be dyed _ . “Secondly, not many people enter the police academy as young as I did, or graduate as quickly.”

Naruto eagerly leaned forward in his seat, the only thing stopping him from sprawling over the center console of Kakashi’s car being the seatbelt restraining him.

“Wow, so were you like, a special case? Were you still a kid when you graduated?” Kakashi hummed thoughtfully.

“Mm, no. I still had to wait until I was the required age, but I suppose you could say I had a knack for the whole thing and worked my way through the ranks rather quickly.”

“A prodigy, then.” Iruka contributed, taking note of the fleeting glance Kakashi shot him through the rearview mirror.

“I don’t know about that,” Kakashi casually dismissed with a light chuckle.

Iruka shrugged with a small smile, looking away from the mirror. “Well, by definition then.”

Beside him, Iruka noticed Naruto blinking thoughtfully, more questions no doubt rampantly brewing in his sprightly little mind. He glanced at Iruka, brows drawn together before looking back towards Kakashi. Iruka furrowed his brows at the boy, wondering what connection he could possibly be making, only to regret his queries once Naruto actually voiced them.

“So, is Kakashi your new boyfriend?”

When the car swerved, Iruka wasn’t sure if it was from Kakashi himself being startled by Naruto’s question, or the piercing shout that erupted from Iruka.

_ “Naruto!” _

Naruto shrunk back to the opposite end of the car, as if physically impacted by the cry.

“What? I was just asking!” Naruto said defensively.

With his brows pinched together in distress, Iruka brought his hands up to cup his nose, breathing in deeply. He didn’t dare look at Kakashi, well aware of his face was on  _ fire. _

“Why would you ask something like that?” Iruka asked, words stilted with embarrassment.

“Because Anko said he has a car! Plus, you two seem like you know each other.”

“Anko?” Iruka simultaneously mused and cursed out loud. Then he remembered that Anko began volunteering for a class recently and since her main connection was foster care like Iruka, she took advantage of it. He completely forgot she had been volunteering at Naruto’s foster home, which meant the two of them were spending plenty of time together—too much, clearly. He wondered what other painfully inaccurate details Anko had been offering about Iruka’s life.

“He's not--I don't have a boyfriend, Naruto, and since when do you ever believe anything Anko says?” Iruka asked. 

“Since I never see you anymore and she’s the only person who can tell me about your life!” Naruto grumped, causing Iruka to wince slightly. “I’m sorry, though” he muttered quickly, wringing his hands together in his lap. Iruka blinked, surprised. “I shouldn’t have just blurted it out like that.” Iruka continued to blink, still startled by the unprompted apology before he gathered himself enough to remember to reinforce that kind of behavior.

“It’s okay,” Iruka said quickly, the aggravation swiftly dissipating from him, to excited to see Naruto behaving so responsibly. 

“I’m trying not to! It’s just that—the words happen quicker than my brain has time to think about them,” he explained almost desperately. Iruka smiled and raised a hand to cup the back of the boys head, affectionately stroking through the blond strands. 

“I know.” Iruka said reassuringly. “I know you’re trying.”

Naruto relaxed immediately under the touch, the tension seeping from his form. Iruka huffed and smiled at him, to which Naruto did the same before he was suddenly perking up again, twisting his form back toward Kakashi.

“So what’s with the sick mask? Are you a germaphobe?” Iruka almost sighed in relief at the light chuckle Kakashi gave in response.

The ride almost seamlessly slipped back into its prior lighthearted mood—with Naruto eagerly asking Kakashi questions about his job. Only this time, Iruka didn’t offer any commentary, still feeling awkward after Naruto’s question. Instead, he was busy thinking of ways to both thank and apologize to the man, even if he appeared to have moved past it already. Iruka sighed and slouched against his seat.

When the car finally came to a stop outside Iruka’s apartment building, Naruto eagerly hopped out, Iruka stepping out a moment later. He was surprised when Kakashi did the same, opening his door to stand beside the running car.

“So how hard do you think I have to work to be a detective as early as you?” Naruto asked, hands determinedly clenched into fists

“Ah, well,” Kakashi said, sounding sheepish. “I wouldn’t rush into it. There are many occupations you might find yourself wanting to pursue. Like perhaps teaching,” Kakashi said, gesturing to Iruka with a hand. Iruka tensed, looking over to Naruto who twisted his face thoughtfully before shaking his head.

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t really understand kids and I  _ am _ one. Detective sounds right,” Naruto said with a decisive nod. Iruka snorted. “I bet I can beat you in the elevator if I take the stairs! But I get a head start! It’s only fair because you’re four floors up, so stay here while I run over there!” Naruto said as he ran off toward the entrance.

Iruka watched him and sighed, wishing he could have some of that boundless energy Naruto seemed to possess. “Yep. Only fair,” he murmured before looking over to Kakashi. Kakashi was leaning against the driver’s door, hands tucked in his pockets, watching as Naruto began vigorously jogging in place just outside the building’s entrance. 

“Okay! Whenever you’re ready Iruka!” he shouted, already sounding like he exhausted himself. Iruka laughed through his sigh.

“I’m… sorry about him. What he said in the car.”

“Maa, don’t worry about it.” Kakashi shrugged. “Most people think it’s dyed, I don’t blame him.” 

Iruka blinked, confused before a grin split across his lips.

“It  _ has _ to be dyed,” Iruka said before he could stop himself, leaning against the car as well. “There’s no way you naturally have  _ ‘silver’ _ hair,” Iruka said, mimicking quotations with his fingers.

“I swear it!” Kakashi said, pretending to be appalled. “It’s a very rare early pigment shortage. You can look it up,” he matter-of-factly stated.

“Really?” Iruka asked, grinning. “I will. Look it up that is,” Iruka threatened.

“Iruka!” Naruto shouted suddenly. Iruka tensed and looked over his shoulder. Naruto was still jogging in place, seeming to slump as he wore himself out. Iruka furrowed his brows.

“Well, you might want to do that first, Sensei.” Iruka smiled sheepishly.

“I am sorry about him though. He’s...a lot.”

Kakashi shook his head, then conceded with a hesitant nod.

“Well…a little. But he’s… _ cute _ .” Kakashi said, the word not quite rolling off his tongue correctly. Iruka barked a laugh, unable to restrain himself, though he tried to stifle it behind a hand.

“I’m sorry,” Iruka said, meeting Kakashi’s amused gaze. “You don’t have to pretend. I know you don’t like kids.”

Kakashi shrugged, making an indifferent noise.

“Well. Perhaps ‘cute’ isn’t the right word,” Kakashi conceded, then went quiet for a moment as he seemed to contemplate. “Endearing seems better. He reminds me of a friend.” Iruka blinked, eyes flickering over Kakashi’s face as the man looked over at Naruto. He was really beginning to wear himself out and they hadn’t even begun racing yet.

Iruka sighed at the display.

“Well, thank you, in any case. For driving. Twice,” Iruka said, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's not a problem,"  he reassured, and though Iruka couldn’t see him smiling, the way he spoke seemed to imply one.

“IRUKA!” Naruto wailed again. Iruka cringed and ducked his head, brows pinching in distress. Rolling his eyes up towards the heavens, Iruka sighed, then settled his eyes back on Kakashi. The man was clearly amused.  _ Definitely  _ a sadist, then. 

“Better get to it, Sensei,” he said. Iruka smiled, looking down at the pavement beneath his feet.

“Probably,” he sighed and began walking backwards. “I’ll…see you around,” Iruka said. 

Kakashi nodded “I’m sure,” he said and gave a lazy wave as he pushed off his car and opened the door.

Iruka grinned and turned on his heel, jogging off toward Naruto. Behind him, Iruka heard Kakashi’s car engine rev to life, followed by the telltale sign of gravel against tires as the car left the parking lot.

When Iruka looked up, Naruto was standing just outside the glass door entrance. He was definitely pouting, his brows furrowed quizzically at Iruka.

“What happened to getting a head start?” Iruka asked as he pushed open the doors.

Naruto followed, bottom lip jutting out grumpily. Iruka raised a brow at him as he pressed the up button to the elevator.

“What?” he asked when Naruto continued to stare at him with crossed arms. He was walking backwards towards the stairs, apparently still set on racing the elevator to the top.

“Nothing,” he said as he settled a foot on one step. “Just, for not being your boyfriend, you sure were talking to him a lot,” Naruto murmured.

The elevator pinged, as it reached the floor, the steel doors sliding open. Iruka did not step in.

Naruto looked over his shoulder at Iruka, now a few steps up. He flicked his gaze between his foster brother and the elevator, confused.

“Iruka, the elevator is  _ open _ ,” Naruto informed, but Iruka made no move to enter it. Instead, he took a step toward Naruto, his face forebodingly blank. Naruto bristled and took a step back, both hands clenching the railing.

“What are you doing?” he asked warily.

In lieu of a response, Iruka began running up the stairs, to which Naruto yelped and fled. “You’re supposed to be taking the elevator!” he cried out. Iruka bit back a laugh, but did not relent. He chased Naruto all the way to his apartment, which was about the time Naruto realized he had no key and was subsequently cornered. Iruka didn’t hesitate to trap Naruto in a headlock. The young boy thrashed in his grip, well aware of what was coming as Iruka’s free hand snaked across his torso, tickling his sides.

Naruto wailed with laughter as he tried to escape Iruka’s grasp, which continued until someone down the hall slammed their door open to aggressively shush them. They both froze and looked at each other before bursting into another round of laughter.

In less than an hour were they eating delivered ramen in Iruka’s small living room. Naruto sat on Iruka’s couch, precariously balancing his bowl on his crossed legs as Iruka sat on the floor in front of the coffee table. The series Naruto enjoyed really was horrible, but in a strange endearing sort of way. Though, Iruka contributed that to the fact that the protagonist was nauseatingly similar to Naruto.

“Hey Iruka?” Naruto said after some time, his now empty bowl placed on the floor in front of the couch. He was laying down, head propped on the armrest of the sofa. “I have a question, but I don’t want you to chase me around your apartment for asking it.” Iruka snorted.

“Is it about Kakashi san?” Iruka asked, craning his neck to look at Naruto. He found the boy’s expression was suddenly sullen. His brows furrowed. “What is it?”

“I just…was wondering if you like him.” Naruto asked before clarifying, “Kakashi.”

Iruka thought for a moment, then shrugged. “He’s alright.”

Naruto rolled his eyes. “No, I mean,  _ like _ -like him,” he insisted.

Iruka furrowed his brows and sighed. “I don’t really know him, Naruto.” Iruka explained, grabbing Naruto’s bowl to stack it atop his own empty one. “You can’t like someone you don’t know.” Iruka stood, holding both bowls to bring them to the kitchen.

It was the lack of response that made Iruka glance at Naruto one last time. He looked…sad. Iruka frowned. “Why the sudden interest?”

Naruto sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know…I guess I just don’t want to see you as sad as when…” Naruto fidgeted in his spot, eyes scaling away.  _ When Mizuki and you broke up _ . Iruka knew, Naruto didn’t have to say.

“Don’t worry about it Naruto. Mizuki…that won’t happen again. Besides, I’m an adult, okay? I should be worrying about you. Not the other way around.” Iruka dismissed easily.

“You do worry,” Naruto groaned drowsily as Iruka washed their bowls. When he walked back over, the boy was passed out, drooling onto the armrest. Iruka huffed a laugh before retrieving a blanket and pillow, tucking them around the sleeping boy’s form.

It occurred to Iruka that Naruto had school the following morning. It wasn't often ever that Iruka found himself being grateful for Naruto's bad habits, but at least his habit of leaving clothes behind when he visited did come in handy. Altogether, it accumulated to a few clean outfits that the boy could wear to school the following day. Iruka would have to call in a favor with Anko, ask her to drive him since Iruka didn’t have a car. He’d give her money for gas and some extra for coffee—a sure way to sway her.

As Iruka crawled into his own bed, he paused as he placed his phone on the charger. He stared at the device in his palm and contemplated something. After a moment, he opened his web browser and began typing into the search bar.

Lo and behold, being born with a “rare pigment shortage” was entirely possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly I loved writing this chapter and then I hated it and then I loved it again.  
> Anyway, we're getting to the good parts I promise!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [TUMBLR](https://litaluna.tumblr.com/) !
> 
> **Also make sure to give this a like and reblog on Tumblr to help bring attention to it! The exact link to the post is [HERE](https://litaluna.tumblr.com/post/184146585527/not-quite-an-icha-icha-love-story-lunarella)  
> I love and appreciate all of you for liking my trash garbage


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